


The Relative Frequency of Christmas

by twothousandverses



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Plot Twists, gfss2015, monster hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twothousandverses/pseuds/twothousandverses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the twins receive a Christmas present that refuses to open, Mabel begs to spend the holidays in Gravity Falls, and Dipper freaks out over quantum physics. There are also diabolical elves that threaten to ruin Christmas, indestructible trees, kidnappings and interrogations, and surprise road-trips. Dipper and Mabel’s parents are going to kill them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Relative Frequency of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> #gfss2015 gift for vermillionmoonfandomart on Tumblr.
> 
> Happy holidays!

There was a present on their doorstep.

It was a perfectly-cubed green box, with a fancy red bow stuck on the top. Diregarding the fact that there was no note attached, the package was totally ordinary.

Mabel Pines glanced down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of their mystery sender. She hadn’t heard the mail truck come by, so the deliverer must’ve sprinted to their house, left the present, and vanished into whatever shadows existed at ten in the morning.

Mabel picked up the gift. “Dipper!” she called. “Christmas came early!”

 

Her brother was in the kitchen, staring into the depths of the refrigerator.

“Hey, Dip!” Mabel slid up to him, and shook the present in his face. “This thingy appeared! I think there might be a cat inside. Did you order it?”

Dipper absently shifted his focus to the box being shaken in his face. “Uh… sorry. It doesn’t look familiar. Maybe it’s for Mom and Dad.”

“I guess so.” Mabel hopped and sat down on the countertop. “Or maybe it’s for me!”

Dipper grabbed a soda from the fridge. “Who would send you something unmarked?”

“I dunno!” Mabel shook it, hoping to hear something rattle inside. Silence. “Ooh! What if it’s from a secret admirer?”

Dipper rolled his eyes. There was a higher probability that the thing in there was a prank, or a doomsday device. He pointed out, “But you can’t tell if there’s no note.”

“Maybe it fell off?” She tossed the package in the air and deftly caught it as it fell. “Or maybe the sender forgot! Maybe he was so focused on the gift he forgot the recipient’s address. Plus his own name!”

Dipper watched her apprehensively. “Hey, be careful with that. We don’t know what’s inside.”

In response, Mabel tossed it to Dipper next. He yelped and flinched, dropping his drink. Soda spilled around his feet, and the package fell with a loud _CRACK!_

Mabel snickered. “Haha. Klutz.”

 _“Mabel!”_ Dipper shrieked. He quickly grabbed the can before it could spill more, and then the present. “Why would you do that!?”

“I thought you were paying attention,” she defended.

“What if you broke it?”

“You dropped it!”

“It wasn’t even ours!” he screeched. “It could’ve been a neighbor’s, or—or something! Maybe it was Mom’s or Dad’s! And now whatever’s inside is—!” He froze. “Oh, man, we have to check that it isn’t broken! Do we have any pliers around here?”

Mabel made a gimme-gimme gesture. After a moment of wordless arguing consisting entirely of varying facial expressions, Dipper conceded the present. 

Mabel beamed. She clicked her heels together and grabbed at the folds of the box. “Now, let’s see what you have in store for us!” She yanked.

Her attempt must’ve failed because her grin vanished, replaced by confused disgruntlement. She tugged on the box again, but with no avail. Her expression twisted.

“Aagh! It’s locked up tight! I can’t—” She strained, pulling so hard her face turned pink. “Ugh!” She punctuated her next words with a slap to every face of the box. “How—is—anyone—supposed—to—open this!?!”

“Maybe it’s a practical joke.” Dipper shrugged helplessly. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be opened.”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “C’mon, where’s your sense of mystery? Let’s open it anyway!” Dipper’s protests flew past her as she dashed out of the kitchen, headed toward the garage.

While their family’s blue Sedan occupied most of the space, one wall was dedicated to a collection of their dad's work tools. Mabel stood before this, one hand on her hip whike the other held the box. “Where did Dad keep those again?” she wondered, scanning her options.

Dipper caught up with her, somehow panting despite the fact that the walk from the kitchen to the garage was twenty meters. “Seriously?” he demanded, as Mabel grabbed a giant crowbar and hefted it to the ground. She wedged it between two of the box’s edges.

“Give it up, Mabel,” he said. “This gift was obviously never meant to be unwrapped.”

“Weren’t you all worried about it before? Curious… and whatever?” Mabel grunted, trying to pull the crowbar back without avail.

Dipper watched his twin struggle a moment longer. “I don’t think it's working.”

Finally she gave up, panting heavily. The crowbar clattered to the ground noisily.

If the package had been made of steel Mabel’d understand why her attempts were futile, but the box was obviously wooden—it was extremely light, and when she rapped her knuckles against its sides there was a hollow sound. “Why won’t it open?”

Dipper frowned. For a moment Mabel was sure he was going to use his big brain to offer a solution, but instead he said, “There’s probably nothing inside anyway.”

She let herself fall, collapsing on the ground weightlessly. There was a moment of silence.

And then a grin crept over her face. “…Wanna see how badly we can wreck this thing before it breaks?”

Dipper’s eyes brightened. “Heck yeah.”

 

What followed could be described as a progression of wild sentiments, from start to finish: funny, hilarious, _really_ hilarious, and then **_panicking_** _._

Because the stupid box wouldn’t open.

First they tried using a hammer to smash it open, but nothing happened. Next they dropped a bowling ball on it, but the box didn’t even dent. The twins used increasingly heavier things, until Mabel hurled the package out the fourth-story window of a building with a furious cry. After tracking it down in a pair of bushes, the twins found that it was _exactly the same._

Not even a single pleat, or wrinkle, or anything. The worse that happened was that the red bow fell off. Mabel was about to ask for her dad’s keys to see if running it over with a car would do anything, but Dipper shot the idea down with a simple, “You’ll drive into a lamppost and die.”

He had a point.

“What we need is figure out why this thing won’t break,” he said.

Mabel’s dejection at losing her chance to drive a car vanished. “Maybe the Internet will know! The Internet knows _everything!_ ”

Her brother scrunched up his nose. Dipper had long since realized that the Internet was not the best place to research anything paranormal. Anyone with half a brain and Wi-Fi access could write whatever incredulous story he or she wanted, and none would be wiser. “Actually, I was thinking of getting in touch with someone more… intelligent.”

“But what’s smarter than the vast expanse of the Internet?” It was Mabel’s turn for her face to scrunch up distastefully. “Are you talking about the _library?”_

“Don’t insult libraries. Books are a way of life.” Dipper stood, and his sister followed him curiously as he went to his room. “I was thinking of calling someone we know….”

He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it strewn on his desk. Mabel flopped onto the bed, and watched as Dipper scrolled down through his contacts until he got to _Wendy._

She considered his choice. Well, if anyone knew about possibly-indestructible wood, supernatural or not, it would be the daughter of a lumberjack. She conceded a point to her brother.

The phone rang three times. Then, someone who was definitely not Wendy exclaimed, “Dudes!”

“Soos!” Mabel shot upright. “Hi!”

“Hey, Soos.” Dipper fiddled with his phone, instead of setting it down like a normal person. “Look, not that I’m unhappy to hear your voice, but where is Wendy?”

“…Wendy?” It dawned on him painfully slowly that this wasn’t his phone. “Oh, right! Sorry guys, she’s unavailable at the moment. Busy arguing with Mr. Pines about not being let use….” Soos pondered it a moment. “I think it was a chainsaw? Yeah, that.”

Dipper nearly choked. _“Chainsaw?”_

“Whoa!” Mabel said. “That’s so cool! What’re you using it for?”

“Eh. Nothing important. So do you wanna leave a message for Wendy, or…?”

“It’s okay!” Mabel chirped. She flopped backwards again so that she was half hanging off the bed. “By the way, do you know about any unbreakable wood? Just out of curiosity.”

“Hmm,” Soos said. “That sounds like the trees that showed up over here. Like, they simply appeared one night. Heh.” They could imagine him make an awkward flourish with his hands. “Poof!”

 _“What!?!”_ Dipper exclaimed. Mabel slipped and fell on her head. “What do you mean some ‘trees just appeared’?” He was already pacing frantically. Mabel shot him a glare as she got to her feet, standing beside him grumpily. “Like, they fell off the back of a truck? Or they grew from the ground after a freaky incident with an old guy and a cow?”

“I—”

There was a pause, and they heard Soos yell faintly, “Sure thing, Mr. Pines!” He returned to the phone. “Sorry dudes. Mr. Pines just elected me to use the chainsaw. I can’t let him down! But I’ll pass you to Wendy.”

Before the twins could share horrified glances, their other friend came on the line. “Yo, guys,” she said, sounding unperturbed by the dangerous-sounding revving in the background.

“Wendy!” Mabel snatched the phone from Dipper’s hands. “Hi! How’ve you been?”

“A bit miffed because your uncle won’t let me touch his new toy, but otherwise cool.” In the background, Grunkle Stan shouted something the twins couldn’t make out. “What about you guys? How’s eighth grade treating you?”

“It’s been awesome!” Mabel jabbered animatedly. “Because we’re the oldest at school we get to sit in the back of the bus! Well, I do at least. Dipper gets motion sickness. Once he threw up all over this girl—”

“Hey! Give me that!” Dipper tried to grab the phone from her, but she wouldn’t let go. “Ignore her, Wendy!” he shouted, panicked, while Mabel laughed victoriously.

Dipper used his foot to push her away, and his sister retaliated by yanking his hair. He yelped, but with a vicious tug managed to snatch the phone back.

When he returned to the phone conversation, their red-headed friend was chuckling. “I have no idea what’s going on,” she admitted.

Mabel gave up and draped herself across Dipper’s shoulders. She asked, ignoring her brother’s wince, “So what’s going on with those random trees? And the chainsaw?”

They heard Wendy shuffling around, probably sitting down somewhere. “Okay,” she began, “so basically, these _trees_ just showed up out of nowhere.  One day they weren’t there, but the next day they were! It was totally weird, I’m telling you.”

Dipper frowned. “But Gravity Falls is literally in the middle of a forest,” he stated unnecessarily. “How did anyone notice?”

“That’s the thing! Nobody did, except Stan and the rest of the Mystery Shack.” Wendy shifted the phone to her other ear. “That’s because one of those trees sprouted underneath the porch steps, and is currently and possibly forever blocking the back entrance.”

“Yikes.” Mabel halfheartedly tried to grab the phone from Dipper. He pushed her off him, and she slouched against the wall. “That’s rough.”

“We’ve tried everything,” Wendy continued. “Chopping it down with an axe, digging it out of the ground, even tying it to the back of Stan’s car and driving away. By the way, your uncle’s car doesn’t have a rear bumper anymore.”

Dipper clarified, “So now you’re… trying to cut it with a chainsaw?”

“Yep!” Wendy brightened up instantaneously, the way Mabel did as soon as you mentioned candy. “The thing is like, half my size, and it’s super loud. It’s awesome! I bet it could slice through a person super easily! But your uncle won’t let me touch it, for some reason.” There was a vague rush of static, like Wendy was readjusting the phone. “Pshh. I’m easily more capable than Soos!” As if to prove her point, from behind her came the sound of incoherent screaming.

Dipper glanced at Mabel to make sure he hadn’t heard incorrectly. “Five seconds ago you said you’d kill someone with it.”

“Huh.” An entire state away, Wendy scratched her head. “Fair point.”

Dipper returned to the main topic, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so these indestructible trees showed up one day in Gravity Falls. Fine. Paranormal stuff happens over there all the time. But how did a box of the same material end up in Piedmont?”

“Whoa, what?”

“Yeah!” Mabel said. “Earlier we got a package disguised as a Christmas present, but it won’t open!” Mabel reached for the phone again, but Dipper danced out of the way. “It’s super weird! Though if what you’re saying is true, then our thingy might be made of the same stuff locking you guys out of the Shack!”

“Sounds like you’ve got a pretty big mystery on your hands,” Wendy said. Somewhere in the background Soos bellowed, “I have all the power!”

Mabel quirked an eyebrow. “Should we be worried about that?”

“Nah. It sounds worse than it is.” Actually, it wasn’t. Stan was chasing around a fat man holding a chainsaw, and using a broom to whack sense into him. “On second thought, I’m going to call the police. Good luck with your case!”

The line went dead. Dipper stared at the phone incredulously.

“They’re going to die,” he said.

“Only with that negative mindset!” Mabel grin softened somewhat. “Besides, if they die before the twenty-fifth, I’ll summon them back into a plane of existence and punch them in the gut. They promised to Skype us on Christmas morning! Plus, they’d never get to open the presents I got them!”

Dipper scratched his head. “We still have to mail those, don’t we?”

“Yup!” Mabel had timed the exact date she’d send her gifts so that they arrived exactly on Christmas Day. It was part of her passion for Christmas.

The end of December was the time of year Mabel cherished most, and she was devastated that she was spending the holidays away from Gravity Falls. To her, Christmas was the most important celebration there was. In fact, she refused to admit Santa wasn’t real until a couple months ago. It was kind of obsessive how every day since the beginning of the month she’d worn an outfit that was either red and green, or winter-related. She wanted to spend the holiday with the people she loved, and although Dipper and Mom and Dad were with her, it wasn’t everyone. Her family was incomplete.

She had already pleaded with her parents to let them spend Christmas and New Years’ in Gravity Falls, but they had been adamant in refusing. _Sorry, sweetie,_ they said. _It isn’t practicable to make plans right now_. _Maybe next year._

Right.

 

An hour later the twins were in Dipper’s room, each doing their own thing. Dipper was working on the new mystery, while his sister kept him company and provided unhelpful support.

Dipper raised a hand to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. “What Wendy told us makes the mystery even more confusing! How did these trees arrive? From where?” He began pacing restlessly, his words muffled by his furious chewing on the end of a pen. “And how did a box of the stuff show up in Piedmont? At _our_ doorstep?”

“Bluh! This _is_ so weird!” Mabel picked at a mistake on the sweater she was making, undoing a knot in the yarn. Her sweater was red with a green Christmas tree in the center, in the spirit of the upcoming holiday.

Suddenly she gasped. “Maybe it was aliens!”

Dipper frowned. “Aliens haven’t come to Earth in millions of years. I highly doubt it.”

“But maybe that’s why they came now! Because it’s been so long since they last visited!”

“…Then how did the trees show up?”

Mabel flourished her hand, dramatically banishing the thought away. “Pshh! Details-shmetails. If you care so much about trivial matters, just ask Grunkle Ford!”

Dipper opened his mouth to state her stupidity, but an idea hit him. “Wait… Great-uncle Ford...?” A grin appeared on his face. “Wait… that’s it!”

Mabel cocked her head. “Huh?”

Dipper dashed over to the wall opposite to his bed. It was occupied by a giant whiteboard, a gift from the very uncle they were talking about. One side of the board was blank, dedicated to homework and other small matters Dipper could easily erase afterwards. The other half was filled with permanent equations and diagrams detailing a project he and Ford were working on. He gestured at his work, making a vague _do-ya-get-it?_ sound.

And Mabel did get it. She knew that after dealing with Bill, their great-uncle Ford had pushed aside documenting the paranormal to focus on _why_ Gravity Falls was so special in the first place. As his sort-of-not-really apprentice, Dipper was enlisted to help despite being an entire state away. But they had worked out a system that worked surprisingly well: Ford would do the research, and Dipper would analyze what he found.

(This had led to numerous sleepless nights and many uncompleted homework assignments on Dipper’s end. Sometimes the teen would sit in front of his white board for hours, trying to make sense of given information. Mabel tried to help occasionally, generally by sitting there and being a presence. But he never regretted it as long as progress was made.)

Their big idea started with the fact that Ford spent thirty years in a different dimension, essentially proving their existence. This, paired with a simple phrase Bill Cipher had hinted at in passing—“ _FOR ONE TRILLION YEARS I’VE BEEN TRAPPED IN MY OWN DECAYING DIMENSION…”—_ meant there were definitely _multiple_ universes, which were ‘born’ and eventually ‘died’.

Ford and Dipper figured these dimensions were lined up one against the other, pressed together like an upright stack of paper. With age, these dimensions got larger and bulkier, taking up more space. However, after reaching their peak, they began to shrink back until they were so small the dimension vanished from existence. Since the human universe was pretty young, their sheet of paper was decently thin. Presumably, Bill Cipher’s dimension had been on the verge of disappearing.

Dipper concluded that some places in a sheet of space-time were thicker than other places. These areas were much closer to their neighboring dimensions, as they would be directly touching each other. Because they were in physical contact, things from those dimensions could cross over—people, animals, and supernatural creatures.

Gravity Falls was one of these places. Since it was so close to the adjacent dimension, over the course of billions of years, paranormal elements were whisked to Earth by chance. Earth objects also ended up in the other universe. Great-uncle Ford dubbed this phenomenon the Cipher Effect. (Real creative, amiright?)

But these occurrences were random and spontaneous, and most of all unpredictable. It was likely there were gaps of millions of years in which nothing traversed at all.

However, when Ford built the portal, he had essentially punched through their dimension’s ‘paper’, creating a _literal_ rip in the universe. This gaping hole made it possible for things to intentionally cross over, if you were in the right spot with the right energy levels.

After defeating Bill, the Pines had patched the hole up, but not completely. The Rift was ever-present and unfixable, and would either heal by itself or stay like that for the rest of eternity. Because the fabric of space-time around Gravity Falls was weak, more magical creatures and objects were appearing every month.

It was alarming, since it was very probable human beings would also begin to disappear, snatched away to a new universe by chance. One day, Gravity Falls might vanish entirely. Maybe even all of Oregon. That was one of the biggest reasons why Ford was studying this—to find a way to stop it from escalating.

But there were still many questions—like, where did the Mindscape exist? Was it possible the universes weren’t simply in a straight row, but somehow existed in a quantum sphere in which every dimension touched the rest? Also, Bill Cipher had to be in the human world to interact with Ford and Dipper, but he also said he’d been ‘trapped’ in a different dying realm. How could he have been in both dimensions at once?

These were questions they didn’t know the answer to. Ford kept researching, hoping to prove their theory correct. One day, he hoped to write a book about their findings.

Dipper shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Regardless, this train of thought was the solution to their current mystery.

Mabel was up-to-date about Dipper and Ford’s investigation, and gasped aloud when she realized what Dipper was getting at. “You mean the trees showed up because of your dimension-theory-thingy?”

“It’s the only explanation.” He added, before Mabel could protest, “Besides aliens.”

She dropped her knitting needles and kicked her feet. “Okay, got it. Random indestructible trees poofing into existence—nothing unusual. But how did it end up _here_?” Although the paranormal existed everywhere, it was concentrated in places where the fabric of space-time was thickest, like Gravity Falls and the Bermuda Triangle. It was rare that something appeared somewhere else, and the odds of it showing up on Dipper and Mabel’s doorstep was practically nonexistent.

Therefore, this mystery wasn’t finished.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and returned to chewing on his pen. Mabel slumped forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Don’t worry, bro-bro! You’ll get it,” she encouraged. He mumbled something unintelligible, and nodded noncommittally.

These were going to be a _long_ couple of days.

 

Mabel scrutinized the presents around the mailbox one last time, double-checking they were all accounted for. Seven packages—each one with a hand-made sweater and other related gift inside—and the three larger packages from Dipper. He’d been lazy and placed all his presents inside a larger package, supposedly to ‘save money’. It just meant that if the whole thing got lost a larger percentage of people went without a gift! Honestly, that boy was supposed to be smart.

Seven packages—two for the grunkles, one for Candy and Grenda respectfully, and three for Wendy, Soos, and Pacifica. Seven.

Mabel heard a sound and turned to face the street, in case the mail truck was coming. Of course not, the mail truck didn’t come until three; it was half an hour too early. Feeling a bit stupid, Mabel reluctantly trudged back toward her house.

Although deep into December, the winter wasn’t terribly cold. They had had a bit of snow a few days before, but that had melted quickly into an icky slush that nobody liked. The cold that filled the air came from the north, accompanied by a wind from the ocean that cut through coats and chilled to the bone. And yet, the universe deemed Piedmont unlucky enough to not be blessed with snow.

Seriously, there was no point in it being cold outside if there wasn’t any snow to play in! Mabel bet it was snowing tons in Gravity Falls.

…And there she went again, missing Gravity Falls and lamenting not being there. (Well, Mabel called it ‘lamenting’, Dipper would probably call it ‘whining’.)

Once indoors, Mabel kept shooting the window cursory glances, in case the presents had disappeared. Somehow she kept herself busy in the living room—organizing the couch pillows, flipping through one of her mom’s books, slipping up and down the corridor only in her socks, re-organizing the couch pillows, toying with the Christmas tree ornaments….

Yeah, she was bored.

With an exasperated sigh that was meant to get her attention (but clearly _no one_ cared about her suffering), Mabel flopped backwards onto the couch. Yes, it messed up her strangely-possessive rearranging of the pillows, but she couldn’t care less now. Christmas was in four days, and the mail truck was taking forever to arrive.

Dipper was in his room, probably doing something nerdy like watching science movies or reading a book. Her parents were packing for a weekend-long trip they were taking to San Francisco. None of them would want to be bothered at the moment.

Something to her right oinked, and Mabel pulled her mind away from self-indulgent pitying to see her faithful pet pig sitting by her side. Waddles nudged her outstretched hand, and oinked again. Then he looked up at her with his brown, happy eyes.

That was enough to bring a smile to her face. “Aww, c’mere!” Mabel slipped off the couch, landing on her butt, ready to receive hugs from the best animal ever.

Waddles oinked again, cuddling closer. Mabel scratched the top of his head, her other arm wrapped around his fat neck. “Hey Waddles, wanna watch another Christmas movie with me? I’ll make snacks!”

He oinked. She took it as a yes.

 

Mabel fell asleep in the middle of watching _Elf_. For some reason it was Waddles’ favorite film, and whenever Will Ferrell did something stupid he’d oink happily. This would’ve been the third time Mabel watched it in a month—it was probably a blessing that she passed out.

In the morning her neck hurt from sleeping awkwardly, sitting on the floor upright against her bed. She’d been multitasking at the time she fell asleep, making a collage that depicted a war between dogs riding dragons and dragons riding dinosaurs. Her fingers felt sticky with dried glue.

The thirteen-year-old stretched, trying to un-stiffen her back. Waddles had left her, presumably to find food. Not that she could blame him; she was also starving.

There was a note on her bed from Dad, reminding her that he and Mom would be back tomorrow night. _The eve of Christmas Eve._ Mabel sighed. The message ended with a heart.

A jingling sound of bells came from somewhere behind her. Mabel whirled around, expecting to see either her neighbor’s cat or Santa Claus, but nothing moved except a cool breeze twisting the curtains.

Mabel would’ve disregarded it, had she not been prudent. She could’ve sworn she closed that window last night….

She walked over to it, peering outside. Maybe something had pushed it open? Seeing nothing suspicious lying underneath the windowsill, she gave her room a wary once-over before shutting the window with a soft _click!_

Something laughed behind her jewelry box.

In a flash Mabel dashed to her desk and grabbed her grappling hook. Fully armed, she pointed her weapon at the offending chest. “Whoever is behind there better come out with their hands in the air!” she yelled. “I am an armed woman who deserves to be feared!”

Whatever the thing was snickered again. Its voice sounded like crackling fire accompanied by the high-pitched whine Waddles made if someone stepped on his foot.

“I’m warning you!” Mabel took a cautious step forward. “Come out now, or have the pointy end of a grappling hook shot in your face!”

The tinkling stopped so abruptly Mabel could believe it had been her imagination. Her arms relaxed slightly.

Big mistake.

 

Dipper awoke to the sound of silence, but then he took out his earphones and heard the screaming from across the hall.

He shot upright in bed, clutching his chest. Sure, he had nightmares that sometimes left him hearing screams in waking life, but nothing as coherent as _that._

Another loud crash sounded from nearby—nearby as in _Mabel’s room._

Either she found a spider in the shower, or something equally as terrible had happened. Ice-cold panic clamped around his chest.

His twin screamed again, and suddenly Dipper was on his feet, racing toward her room with a baseball bat in one hand.

 

The thing leaped from behind Mabel’s jewelry case, screaming with wild delight. She shrieked, and to avoid the creature she flinched backwards, so that it landed on her shoulder instead of her face. Her finger clenched around the trigger of her grappling hook, but her aim was off and she ended up disemboweling one of her stuffed animals.

Everything was happening too fast. Mabel screamed, “Get off! Get off, get off, get _off!”_

She felt sharp nails digging into her shoulder, and with a violent punch she shoved the creature away. It landed somewhere on the surface of her desk, howling as it skidded and knocked over picture frames. The angle of Mabel’s punch had been awkward, and she ended up twirling with unbalance before straightening herself.

The creature was a tiny, vicious piranha-looking elf—that was the first thing that came to Mabel’s mind. It was wearing a silly red hat, and although his clothes were shabby and ripped they were _definitely_ green overalls. Its ears were just as pointed as its sharp teeth and nails, and it hissed at her savagely. She cringed.

“I don’t know what you are,” she said, reaching for an empty glass she’d used for drinks at her and Waddles’ sleepover, “but you need to _get away from me!”_

She flung the cup, but the elf-creature scuttled out of the way. It shattered against the wall, showering her desk in glass.

The elf trilled in its ugly, high-pitched laugh. If Mabel had time she’d be wondering where this thing came from, but her thoughts were overridden by a relentless stream of _oh my god ew it’s so gross why is this happening!?_

Something hit her square in the back, digging its claws into her shirt and ripping downwards. Mabel wheezed, and reeled around to see a second elf standing on the ground, holding shreds of her clothes.

The creature brought it up to its nose and took a short whiff. “Ugh,” it said, holding the shred away. “Smells awful! Do you ever shower, ape?”

Mabel scowled. “I’ll have you know, I washed these pajamas _yesterday!”_

She made to kick the elf, but it dashed out of the way. “What the heck do you want!?” she demanded.

“How about for you to stop screaming!” the elf shot back. Its voice sounded like a piano being thrown down the stairs. “I could put your ugly, obnoxious voice in a horror movie and make millions!”

That was when Dipper barged in Kool-Aid Man style. His shirt was inside out, and he was only wearing one sock. “Mabel!”

She made the mistake of looking at him. “Dipper!”

The elves darted out of sight. She cursed and whirled around, trying to find him again. “I’m okay!” she assured, feeling like her blood had turned to gunk. “Did you see them?”

“Yeah.” Dipper lowered the baseball bat, scanning the room desperately. “There was more than one of those things?”

“I think there were two.” Mabel rubbed her forehead, turning around. “There could be more. I don’t—” Her eyes widened. “Hey! Get away from there!”

A third elf was crouched on her bookshelf, gleefully tearing the pages out of books. It threw the ripped paper like confetti, giggling madly when it noticed Mabel’s glaring.

 _“Oops!”_ it shrieked, throwing an empty spine at her feet. “Hopefully you read that one!”

Dipper froze in confusion. “You can talk?”

The first elf reappeared, dancing on Mabel’s bed. He took a look at their father’s note, and then ate it. “Our species has existed long before your measly planet was created! Of _course_ we can talk!”

The elf’s gaze fell to Mabel’s collage—the art she’d worked so hard on last night!—and it leered wickedly. In a swift bound it landed beside it and quickly tore it to shreds.

Mabel bristled. “Hey! Stop that!”

The second elf appeared on her bedside table, kicking over her lamp. Dipper swung at it with his baseball bat, but with surprising agility it jumped over the swipe and landed on its feet. The elf blew a raspberry.

“Missed!” it taunted, and lunged at him. Dipper cried out, dropping his bat to grab it, but the elf clutched a handful of his hair and swung Tarzan-style to the top of his head.

Mabel’s eyes fell on a school textbook that had been kicked over. Quickly she ran over and hefted it up, ready to swing. “Dipper, _duck!”_

Her twin stared at her in bewilderment. “What?”

Too late to kill her momentum, the textbook slapped him across his face. It knocked the elf from its perch, but Dipper nearly went sprawling. _“Mabel!”_

“You were supposed to duck!” She let the textbook go immediately and hurried to his side. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hit you too hard? _Why didn’t you duck!?”_

She turned his head so she could see where she’d accidentally hurt him. His cheek was starting to redden, and when she brushed her fingers over the spot he winced. “You don’t yell ‘duck’ two seconds before you do something crazy!” he protested. “People’s processing abilities aren’t that fast!”

“That’s why you gotta trust your instincts, goober.” But there was no venom in her voice. She smiled kindly.

But then Dipper’s gaze trailed over her shoulder, and Mabel turned. All three of the elves were watching them with a mix of horror and disgust, like they couldn’t believe love was a thing that was possible. One of the elf’s expression twisted like he just bit into an onion covered in hot sauce, and another gagged.

“Oh, buzz off!” Mabel shouted. She grabbed her grappling hook from the floor and shot the elf pretending to retch over his shoes. Hours of practicing hitting eggs and incomplete homework assignments paid off, and the grappling hook hit the elf in the stomach and sent him flying into the wall. It released a painful _oof!_ as its head slammed against the wall, falling unconscious.

Dipper straightened, glowering at the other two. His voice sounded viciously dark. “Who wants to be next?”

The elves shared looks. One second later they were scampering to the window and leaping through it, shattering the glass with a deafening crash. When Mabel and Dipper dashed over to see where they’d landed, the mysterious creatures had disappeared.

The twins turned back to face inside. They slumped against the wall dejectedly and slid to the ground in unison.

There was a moment in which neither said anything, ended by Mabel’s exclamation of, “What the _heck_ was that?”

Dipper grimaced, knocking his head against the wall. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen those creatures in the Journals before, and I read them each sixteen times.”

“Ugh. It’s gnomes all over again, but less pointy hats and more pointy _everything!_ ” Mabel groaned, scanning her completely destroyed room. “Mom and Dad are going to be _pissed.”_

No arguments from Dipper. The pair fell into a companionable silence—or as companionable a silence could be after fighting three deranged, mutant imps.

Mabel looked down at her feet, clicking her toes together. “I’m never seeing Santa’s little helpers the same way again. What do we do now?”

Dipper’s sight fell over the unconscious elf. “We figure out where they came—”

He froze in stunned realization, his words stopping abruptly. His eyes widened. Mabel gasped, realizing the same thing.

“The present!” Dipper shot to his feet. “They must’ve come with the weird gift thingy!”

“Oh my gosh!” Mabel bounded to her feet. “Yes, yes, yes! I _knew_ there was something inside there! Where did you put it?”

“My room! C’mon!”

But a realization made Mabel pause. She scanned the room quickly, until her gaze fell on the perfect cage for their unconscious elf. She grinned.

“Wait just a second!” Mabel bounded over to her jewelry case. It was lying on its side, most of her bracelets and charms scattered all over her desk, but she needed it empty anyway. She picked up the elf by his ugly overalls and placed it inside the pink prison.

“Hah! Ironic justice.” Mabel beamed. “Okay, let’s go check out the extraterrestrial present now.”

 

Sure enough, it was open.

 _“Seriously?”_ Dipper pounded indignantly on all of the box’s sides, making sure it was just as indestructible as before. Nothing had changed, except now one of the faces was unhinged like a door. “Of all the things that could’ve been inside here, it had to be freaky imp-monsters?”

“How did they even fit in there?” Mabel poked the box herself. “It must’ve been super uncomfortable!”

Dipper scratched his head. “I… I guess there are only two options. Either when the door closes the box gets bigger on the inside, or the elves themselves are more magical than we accounted for.” He chewed on his fingernails. “Either way, it doesn’t really matter. We just need to know _why_ they’re here.”

Mabel inhaled sharply, realizing what this meant. She grabbed her brother by the front of his shirt and smushed their cheeks together. He made a whine of protest. “Oh my god, does this mean we’re going to do an interrogation!?” Her excitement was palpable. “I _love_ interrogations! It’s been too long since we’ve done one! You’re not kidding, right!?”

“…No?” Dipper’s voice was muffled.

Mabel squealed, and released him. “I call being the bad cop! Dibs, no take-backs!”

“Ugh. You’re always the bad cop.”

“No take-backs!” Mabel laughed evilly, and shook the pink jewelry case. Something limp rattled inside. “I’m gonna set up an interrogation room, and take out some torture weapons! See ya!”

She was out the door before Dipper could process what she said. “What? Mabel! That isn’t—oh my god.”

 

When the elf finally came to its senses, the first thing it saw was its captors.  One of them was glaring at the other exasperatedly. The second was wearing a giant trench coat and a fake mustache, and smoking a rolled up piece of paper with the word ‘CIGARETTE’ scrawled on one side. The white lights meant to intimidate him were low-watt lamps, and his updated prison cell was an overturned jar of pickles.

Needless to say, the elf was impressed.

“Aww! You went through so much trouble for me?” it snickered childishly.

Mabel slammed her cigarette on the table with a loud _bang_! Dipper jumped. The elf didn’t flinch. “Shut your friggin’ mouth!” she ordered. Her voice was so gravelly it sounded like someone was playing her voice box like an accordion. “You will speak only when commanded to, and _only_ answer our questions!” She turned to her partner. “Isn’t that right, Agent Beta?”

Dipper face-palmed. “I thought I vetoed the codenames.”

“Heh, you just don’t like being ‘Beta’.” Her real voice shone with her teasing, before it returned to dark-and-serious. She glared at their prisoner. “Understood, _convict?”_

The elf giggled. “This is so adorable! You think you can intimidate me!”

Mabel scowled furiously. “I thought I gave you the order to _keep quiet!_ ” Her mustache tipped somewhat on her face. “Say something out of line again, and I’ll be forced to implement disciplinary action!”

The elf chuckled sardonically. “I’d like to see you tr— _hey!”_

Mabel grabbed the pickle jar and—with far too much enjoyment—shook it. The elf bounced against the walls, shrieking curses and screaming in panic. Dipper winced.

When she finally stopped her torture, the elf was griping but willing to talk. “Fine!” it seethed. “Fine, I’ll talk. What do you want?”

Dipper took over before Mabel could start pointlessly start throwing around threats again. “First of all, do you have a name?” he asked.

“Names are trivial in the grand scheme of things,” replied the elf, “but my friends call me Frank.”

“I had a goldfish named Frank once,” Mabel commented in a deadly growl. “He ran away.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. Dipper resisted the urge to groan; _one of them_ had to act professionally. “How did you come here?” he continued. “And why? What is your species?”

The elf sat down and rapped his knuckled against the wall of his cage. “My species’ name can’t be translated into English, so I’m going to skip this question,” he said, “unless you’d like to hear me recite gibberish for twenty minutes.”

“I’ll pass.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “I already get enough nonsensical rambling from Agent Alpha over here.” Mabel made a whine of indignation. “Give me a shortened version, please.”

Frank tapped his thin in mock thought. “I know! You can think of us as killers of joy and slaughterers of peace! We thrive on the misery of others, and cause destruction wherever we tread! Mischief makers galore!”

Dipper disregarded the evil laughter that came afterwards. “That was insightful,” he remarked, rubbing his forehead. This guy was more dramatic than Gideon. “Moving on. I assume you came with the weird trees,” he said. “So now I ask _why?_ Why did you come here? What is your plan?”

Mabel slammed her hands down without warning, rattling the desk. The pickle jar wobbled dangerously. “Yeah, speak up!” she added, glaring at their prisoner. “And don’t even _think_ about lying!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” was the elf’s reply, his words dripping in sarcasm.

“Good!” Mabel spat on the ground. She got drool down the front of her shirt and on her chin.

Frank only addressed Dipper after that. “When we first arrived to this strange, new dimension, we saw its potential. We were delighted! So much food!” Dipper didn’t like the way he hungrily licked his lips.

“But we aren’t shmucks. We know you can’t run head-first into any unknown setting and expect to return unharmed. Instead we were observant, and watched the nearby populaces for as long as our patience would last. But you two”—he jabbed two fingers at them, his claws tapping the wall of glass with an ominous echo—“intrigued us.”

“What? Why would we interest you guys?” Dipper’s brain was running a marathon. He flailed a little bit. “And how did you even know we existed? We left Gravity Falls months ago!”

The elf’s gaze trailed over his shoulder. “Gravity Falls? Is that what you call the little town by the woods?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Interesting. Well, all the residents of ‘Gravity Falls’ are tainted with extradimensional particles. These particles emit a unique, low-radiation energy that is invisible to all except my species.

“So obviously we were curious after feeling this energy displacing space-time outside of ‘Gravity Falls’. My friends and I came to investigate incognito, thoroughly intrigued. You two are the only ones outside Oregon with these properties.”

Mabel looked down at her arms, her eyes wide. “Whoa! I’m radioactive?!” She pumped a fist in the air. “Finally, I can fulfill the destiny that catchy song had in store for me!”

Dipper processed this information somewhat differently. His jaw dropped. “Energy? Extradimensional particles?! _What?”_

But then something more impactful dawned on him, and he finally drew the connections between this information. “Wait… _oh my god._ But that—” He inhaled deeply, like he’d stubbed his toe. “Oh my god. That’s it! _Mabel!_ That’s how _it_ travels!”

Mabel cocked her head. “Say what?”

Dipper grabbed her by the front of the shirt, shouting right into her nostril. “That’s how things from the universe next door keep appearing! There’s like—like a _breeze_ of energy that pushes things along, and we’re _covered in it!”_

He let go abruptly, and Mabel flailed at the sudden release. “When the Rift opened, only Gravity Falls was there to witness it!” Dipper rambled excitedly. “So only _we_ and everyone else in Weirdmaggedon are covered in this—these weird, _particles._ Because when our dimension was torn, the energy was able to flow directly through the patch and hit us _directly!_ _Hah!”_ He pumped his fist in the air for quite a different reason than his sister had, beaming victoriously. “I gotta tell Ford this! Mabel, you—you finish the interrogation or something. I— I gotta—oh my god!”

Dipper made to run away, either to scribble down his new theory or to call their great-uncle in Gravity Falls—possibly both at the same time—but the elf bellowed, “Wait!”

Dipper stopped with one foot in the hallway. “What?” he demanded, but his words were empty of menace. His mind elsewhere.

“Nothing.” The elf bared all his teeth in a vicious, _hungry_ sneer, which choked both of the twins’ hearts. “Just wanted to give you a split-second warning. Your species really _does_ need to work on their reflexes.”

Then the second elf jumped out from behind a potted plant and gave a loud, wordless screech. Both of the kids jumped.

“Ahh! It’s you again!” Mabel exclaimed. “I thought you ran away!”

A large object went flying in Dipper’s peripheral vision, falling in the direction of his twin. His lungs became an empty vaccum. _“Mabel!_ Watch o—”

Something heavy hit him in the back of the head. The last thing Dipper remembered was hearing the sound of breaking glass, and reaching for Mabel before they both collapsed on the living room floor.

 

When the twins regained consciousness, they were tied up back-to-back in Dipper’s room. The first thing they saw were the elves rummaging through and destroying his stuff.

Frank noticed they were awake, and grinned. “Welcome back, lady and gentleman! I hope you had pleasant dreams!”

Dipper groaned, trying to sit up properly. The bonds that tied them down were wrapped tightly around their wrists and ankles, making sure they couldn’t do more than sit up. There was a pounding ache in the back of his head, and his eyes hurt when they saw light. Behind him, Mabel moaned, sharing the sentiment.

“My head hurts,” she whined, “and I think my blood circulation is being cut off.” Because she didn’t have the energy to twist around to see hands, Mabel checked the rope at her ankles. She made a weird grunt/wail of despair.

“Black licorice!” she bemoaned. “They _literally_ tied us up with black, magical licorice! The only candy children refuse to eat! Curse you, unconventionally intelligent elves!”

Dipper checked his own bonds. “How does this even work?”

“Ugh. Little devils,” Mabel cursed. “I almost prefer gnomes.”

“Don’t say that. You’ll jinx it.”

In front of them, one of the elves was using Dipper’s world globe to roll around the room Indiana Jones style. The other two were piling up electronic devices—cellphones, computers, and even Mabel’s old iPod—in a large, technological heap. Dipper didn’t want to know what they were planning with it.

He struggled. “Why are you doing all this?” he demanded. “What is your plan?”

The elves stopped. One of them broke into a cruel smirk.

“Stupid boy!” Frank howled. He jumped down and landed on Dipper’s knees, leaning close. “Didn’t I tell you enough already? Can you not see what’s right in front of your nose?” He reached out to touch Dipper’s face, and the younger boy flinched.

“But then again, what else should I have expected?” the elf taunted. “Some brilliance to descend from the heavens and enlighten your brain? You conformed exactly to my needs—allowed yourself to be distracted by information I could’ve pulled out of my _butt_ for all you know. Extra-dimensional particles? Did you _seriously_ fall for _all of that?_ ”

Dipper shrank away, but the elf wasn’t done yet. “Meanwhile, my friends planned a rescue you should’ve seen coming miles away! Your senselessness got both you _and_ your sister trapped as our prisoners! Hah! Even with the upper hand you managed to fall. What does that feel like?”

He could be lying. He could be saying all those things for fun, not because any of it was true. This elf’s words shouldn’t get under his skin.

But they had. Because that had always been their shtick—Mabel was the cute, funny, artistic one, and Dipper was the smart, nerdy, awkward one. They complemented each other. But that was all Dipper had. _Intelligence._ Words from not-so-long ago resounded in the back of his mind: _If I’m not the smart guy, then who am I?_

Dipper’s intelligence had been insulted before, and he didn’t feel as smart as everyone said he was. And although Great-uncle Ford acknowledged Dipper’s greatness—he recognized his potential, and gave him a chance to do something with it—Dipper had always felt suspicious that Ford had chosen him as his apprentice because he sympathized with his position. Being the ‘odd’ one of a perpetual couple. Feeling lonely and _wanting_ to be worthwhile.

Dipper knew it was just his anxiety speaking, but it was still a legitimate concern. So when the elf leered and brought back all these fears, his throat tightened, chocking his air.

Mabel, tied back-to-back with him, recognized the gravity of Frank’s words. “Oi, fart-face!” she called, trying to shuffle around to face her brother’s aggressor. “Do you want me to put a fist through your freaking face? ’Cause I’ll do it! _Let us go and I’ll prove it!”_

She struggled violently against their candy-bonds, pulling the rope tauter. Dipper winced. “GIVE ME YOUR WORSE!” she bellowed, loud enough to alert their neighbors. “I’LL BEAT YOUR TINY, POINTY BUTT INTO A NEW UNIVERSE! YOU’LL NEVER FORGET THE DAY I— MMFHG!”

One of Frank’s friends shoved a sock in her mouth. From the way she gagged (albeit exaggeratedly) Dipper assumed it hadn’t been washed recently.

The elf quipped, “You talk too much. Has anyone told you it’s unattractive?”

Something inside Dipper snapped. “Hey, leave her alone! She doesn’t need those words from—hey!” Frank turned away uncaringly, searching for something else to destroy.  Apparently he was done with the technology-piling. “Don’t just walk away!”

“I don’t need to entertain you.” Frank hardly had to duck to see if there was anything under Dipper’s bed. “So shut up and sit there like a good prisoner. Maybe then we’ll bother to feed you!”

Fury bubbled under Dipper’s skin. “Why _are_ you here?” he demanded. “Did you _really_ lie about _everything?”_

The elf snickered. “No. Everything I told you, for the most part, was the truth. We _were_ curious about you, but it appears we’ve wasted our time—you guys aren’t interesting at all! At least we’ve had fun messing up your stuff!” He found an old The Sibling Brothers book under Dipper’s bed, and used a pen to scribble over the pages.

“Understatement of the year,” Dipper retorted, feeling something in his chest contract. “That’s practically all you’ve done since you got here! Destroy things, and wreak havoc—”

A memory hit him fast, like a fastball to the face that leaves you with brain damage. “ _You can think of us as killers of joy and slaughterers of peace! We thrive on the misery of others, and cause destruction wherever we tread!”_

Dipper scanned the elves again, his jaw slack. ‘Thrive’ hadn’t been used as a hyperbole—these creatures actually _depended on the need_ to cause mischief. It wasn’t just an activity to pass the time, or an enjoyment for only these three individuals.

They literally _ate_ dark energy.

Dipper swallowed. It was messed up, but it made sense. He remembered a lesson Ford once taught him: _Every aspect of nature and life contains energy, even words and concepts and emotions. Even_ matter. _Just for the mere fact of existing they’re given power._

Another moment flashed in his memory: _“When we first arrived to this strange, new dimension, we saw its potential. But we aren’t schmucks! We know you can’t run head-first into any unknown setting and expect to return unharmed. Instead we were observant, and watched the nearby populaces for as long as our patience lasted.”_

The elves had to stay low. But why did hiding matter so much? What was the point of that?

Because they had to gather info on Gravity Falls. How many people lived there, how large the town was, where everyone retreated to at the end of the day….

Dipper realized what their plan was. “You’re going to attack Gravity Falls.” His voice sounded strained, like someone had their hands wrapped around his neck. “Not just you guys, but everyone who came through the Rift. You’re going to destroy everything! Your species _literally_ feeds off bad energy!”

Behind him, Mabel tensed. She couldn’t say anything because of the gag, but she grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly.

One of the elves popped out of Dipper’s closet, holding an old science fair project. “You got it!” he chirped happily, and then drop-kicked the project across the room. “We’ve been biding our time until the perfect moment to strike! Only a couple more days!”

 _Only a couple more days._ The twins realized what that meant instantly, though Mabel reacted more violently. She screamed something incoherent through the sock in her mouth, and through sheer wrath alone she managed to spit it out.

“You’re going to ruin _Christmas?!”_ she cried. “You can’t! Christmas is the ultimate time of joy and celebration and _love!_ You can’t take that away from people! You _can’t!”_ She sounded desperate, and miserable and furious.

“Hah! Watch us!” An elf gauged the height from Dipper’s bed to the pile of electronic devices. “Cannonball!” he cried, and jumped, falling right through the monitor of Mabel’s computer. Both twins immediately cried out in protest.

“Dude!”

“Not cool!” Mabel struggled more frantically. “Why did you do that!?”

Frank clambered next to the junk pile as well. “You two have proven yourselves stupid, albeit resourceful. We don’t need you contacting Gravity Falls!” He grabbed an old phone and snapped it over his knee with a warrior cry. The final elf laughed and joined his friends in ruining the Pines’ electronic devices.

And they could only watch in horror. “Mom is going to _kill us,”_ Dipper breathed.

Watching the elves, Mabel wanted to dissolve into furious tears. She bit back something bitter, feeling it burn against her throat.

“Dipper.” Her voice was a low whimper. “How do we stop them?”

“I don’t know.” Her brother clenched his fists, anger directed at many. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know.”

The elf was right; Dipper was the worst detective ever. _Can you not see right’s in front of your nose?_

Right now, all he could see were three hyperactive brats destroying over four thousand dollars’ worth of tech. They were cackling manically, despite the glass shards that cut into their feet.

His expression tightened with grim determination. How could they be defeated?

These creatures fed off bad energy, which prompted them to wreak havoc and destroy things. What else was there to know? They were small. Their ears were pointy.

They were also intelligent, and would resort to verbal taunting to mess with people. Also, they could recognize positions of power, and tell if they had an upper hand or not. If they didn’t, they ran….

They ran away. Like the time he and Mabel had inadvertently defeated them for the first time, and captured Frank. He straightened suddenly, almost as if realization had given his spine the energy to stop slouching. Mabel noticed, and nudged him gently.

He gave her a subtle nod: _I’m working on it._

The only reason they’d been able to capture Frank was because the elves were distracted. But by what? Dipper wanted a pen to chew.

Okay, well, Mabel had just hit him with a giant textbook. Remembering that made Dipper want to rub his face. Why had it been so distracting? Maybe elves had an aversion to physical pain? Or pain inflicted by people who weren’t other elves?

No. When Mabel slapped him she’d rushed to his aid, making sure he was okay. _That_ was when the elves recoiled in disgust.

 _Love._ They had an aversion to love.

An idea warmed in the back of his mind. “Mabel,” he began, keeping his voice low, “how much are you willing to sacrifice to get rid of these pests?”

She must have heard something devious in his tone, because her response came accompanied by a delightedly evil grin. “Whatever it takes.”

 

Dipper tugged at the ropes tying his wrists together. It had been twenty minutes, the elves had successfully annihilated all electronic tech in the house, and Dipper was bored. “Aren’t you guys done yet?” he complained, his voice an impressive whine. “Can’t you let us go?”

The elves were now playing a game on Dipper’s old DS. One of the creatures sat with the device in his lap, toying with the controls at an impressive speed, while the other two watched. “No! Dude! You just passed a power-up!” one of them groaned, completely ignoring their prisoner.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Craig?” snapped the one holding the DS. He tore his eyes from the screen to glare at him. “Stop bothering me about everything! I never do anything right for you!”

“Watch the screen!” hissed Frank, slamming both hands on the A button to avoid a monster. “You useless cretins! If you’re not going to pay attention, give the adventuring hyper-reality machine to me!”

“Make me!” the elf screamed back, kicking Frank in the gut.

This continued for another annoying stretch of time. Dipper groaned internally, again testing the licorice ropes. The elves hadn’t even noticed him speak. “Excuse me!” he shouted, attracting their attention momentarily. “I _said—_ will you guys let us go already? You got what you wanted. Happy now?”

Only Frank seemed to register his words. “Um… no. We’re not letting you go.”

Behind him, Mabel scowled. “What?! But you can’t leave us here forever!”

“Relax, it won’t be forever.” Frank returned his attention to Super Mario Bros. “Just until the holiday your species calls Christmas is over. Then we’ll let you go.”

Mabel’s features twisted furiously. “But that’s two days away! We’ll starve to death!”

Frank shrugged noncommittally. “Eh. Not our probl— _hey! Boor!_ ” He smacked the elf with the DS on the head. “What the heck are you doing?! I turn my back for five seconds and you’ve wasted _two lives! You don’t find these things growing under your—oof!”_ The elf slugged Frank across the face, toppling him onto his butt.

Craig snickered meanly. “Yeah, Clarence. Maybe you should hand the gaming device to someone else….”

Clarence yanked his friend’s ear, and Craig released a squawk of indignation. Mabel tapped the back of Dipper’s hand. _“This isn’t working.”_

“I know,” Dipper gritted back. “Okay, new plan. Forget ‘building up’. Just fight me.”

Mabel immediately head-butted him from behind; she took orders quite literally. Dipper released a cry surprise and pain.

“Mabel!” he shouted, half genuine. “What was that for?”

His sister huffed. “I’m trying to get your attention, idiot!” She spoke as if her words stung bitter. “You heard the elves, we have to escape soon! Have you thought of anything yet?”

Dipper grabbed on to a transient wave of irritation. “What am I, your pet nerd? Why do _I_ always have to save our necks? Can’t you think of something for once?”

Craig was about to retaliate against Clarence, but Frank patted their faces absentmindedly, and then pointed at the twins. Both of them stopped fighting to stare at the commencing show.

Mabel’s nostrils flared—not that Dipper could see it. “I’ve saved the day plenty of times!” she defended. “Back in Gravity Falls, who solved the mystery of the Eighth-and-a-half President? Me! Who got the unicorn hair and protected the Shack against Bill’s Weirdmaggedon? _ME!_ ”

“And who _also_ handed over the Rift to an almost-complete stranger, allowing the apocalypse to happen in the first place?” Dipper countered sharply.

Mabel made an affronted gasp. “That’s because you never told me what it was!” she snapped. She tugged at her bonds distraughtly. “You _never_ told me _anything,_ Dipper! _You never trusted me!”_

By this point the elves had been successfully distracted from their video game. They watched with an excited attention, like little kids at a particularly violent circus. Fights, verbal or not, were much more entertaining than a digitalized game.

Dipper glared at them, and then back at the empty space in front of him. “Maybe I had good reason to,” he bit back, his words increasingly dark. “All you do is worry about your own problems anyway.”

“Sure, so this is _my fault?!”_ Although Dipper couldn’t see her face, he was sure Mabel was seething. “No, this is _your_ fault!” she shrieked. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had tried harder!”

Dipper shrank in on himself, before inflating with surge of undulating anger. “Look at you! You’re so full of hot air! Maybe if you stepped down for once, you’d find the space to think of something worthwhile! Not everything is sparkles and unicorns, Mabel! _This is YOUR fault! You never take anything seriously!_ ”

Mabel’s voice was a screech. _“You should have stopped this mess! You’re supposed to be the smart one!”_

The silence that followed could have snapped a pencil in half.

One of the elves—Craig—hissed lowly. _“Oh, shiiii….”_

Dipper whispered, “Oh my god.”

Mabel gulped. “Oh no. Oh no, oh no— _Dipper_.” Her voice cracked. “I’m so _sorry._ I didn’t mean anything that I said. I—sorry, I just—”

 _“What?!”_ The elves’ protests cut through the air.  They jeered in outrage. “Don’t stop now! Fight more! Boo!”

Dipper ignored them. “It’s okay, seriously. I— Mabel….” He shook his head, mad at himself. “I’m so sorry. I went overboard too. I can’t believe I said any of that. I just… wanted an excuse to hurl verbal abuse, I guess.”

“Same.” She leaned into Dipper from behind, resting her back against his. “We’re a bunch of stupid dumb-faces, aren’t we?”

One of the elves threw the DS at Mabel. _“BOO!”_

Dipper sighed, returning the gesture. “The biggest dumb-faces to exists,” he affirmed. He found her hand and squeezed it. _It’s okay. I forgive you._

Mabel laughed exhaustedly, as if drained of all her energy. _I forgive you too. I love you._ One of the elves covered his eyes and moaned. “What came over us, bro?”

“Tough situations make good men go mad.”

Mabel perked up. “Whoa. Did Einstein say that?”

“No,” Dipper said simply. “I made it up.”

If her hands hadn’t been tied, Mabel would’ve pumped her fist. “Nice! Put it on a T-shirt. Wait!” She straightened further. “I’ll put it on one of my sweaters! And then I’ll give it to you, so you can walk around with cool, nerdy quotes on your chest!”

They were interrupted by the elves’ groans. One of them had used his hands to cover his mouth, swallowing vomit, and another was scrubbing his eyeballs as if to cleanse himself from this lewd display of sibling affection. Neither twin knew if these reactions were genuine or not.

The final elf clutched at his chest. “Shut up!” he ordered weakly. “You’re filth! Stop it!”

The twins checked with each other. Dipper gave an almost imperceptible nod. _Not good enough._ “Seriously though, nothing I said was true,” he continued. “I don’t believe you’re worthless, or stupid, or—”

“I know. And I don’t think you’re lazy, or not good enough.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You’re welcome, dork. Don’t forget, I always got your back.” She leaned backwards to nudge him, and laughed. “Literally! Hah.”

“Yeah.” Dipper smiled fondly. “I got yours too. Love you, sis—”

_“AARGHH! THAT’S ENOUGH!”_

Frank’s shriek was loud enough to make both of the twins freeze. The elf desperately trying to keep his lunch down puked all over the floor. “Stop it!” he commanded, marching in front of Dipper and kicking his shin. The blow was so weak he hardly felt it. “Stop being so gross with your—argh— _love!_ Happiness is _awful!”_ Frank clambered up onto Dipper’s knees to reach his height. Spittle sprayed him in the face. “Ugh! You’re disgusting!”

“Okay.” Dipper remained unconvinced. “I don’t have to do what you say.”

It hardly seemed to register with Frank. He swayed dangerously, forgetting his footing. “You’re _our_ prisoners,” he slurred, “so when we tell you to shut up, you gotta….”

Dipper cocked his head. “I’m sorry— _‘we’?”_ He didn’t fight the grin that overtook his face. “I think you’re misinformed; you’re all alone.”

Dizzily, Frank turned to see that both his friends had fainted. The last thing he managed was a small _“what?”_ before Dipper leaned forward and head-butted him into unconsciousness.

Frank toppled onto the ground and landed on his face.

“Oh my god,” Dipper said. “That was probably the strangest thing I’ve ever done for the sake of freedom.”

Mabel rocked happily, excited to have won. “We did it! Your plan worked!” She turned around as much as she could. “Finally! I thought those elves would never pass out.”

“To be honest, I was starting to think they never would.” Dipper pushed away Frank’s unconscious body with his two bound feet. “I knew they were repulsed by kind acts, but I wasn’t sure how extensively. We could’ve just annoyed them or something.”

“But your instincts were right. Yay!” Mabel nudged him again. “No hard feelings about the fight, right?”

Dipper nodded. “For sure,” he promised. “It was an argument for the sake of freedom.”

“Freedom! Speaking of freedom.” Mabel tried pulling her wrists apart, in vain of course. “You sure this’ll work?”

“It’s licorice,” Dipper reminded her. “And you _did_ promise that—”

“Ugh! I know!” Mabel scooted forward, apparently resigned to her fate. Then she flopped on the ground until her legs passed through the hole between her arms. Now in a more comfortable position, she stared at her wrists. “If I start turning green, you’ll stop me, right?”

“Promise,” Dipper swore, fully intending to lean away if Mabel puked.

 

A few minutes later, the magical black licorice ropes were gone. (“This is the most awful thing I’ve tasted in my life!” Mabel complained dramatically. “Trust me,” her twin replied, “you’ve eaten worse. Remember that time you made a banana split, except the bananas were rotten, the ice cream was literal ice cubes, and the sprinkles were dirt?”)

Afterwards, the twins focused on neutralizing the threat the elves expressed. That mostly consisted of stuffing them under an upside-down laundry basket, and putting their mom’s cookbooks on top.

“Finally, justice is ours!” Mabel cried, triumphantly pointing and jeering at the elves. They were unconscious and couldn’t hear her.

“Our job isn’t done yet,” Dipper reminded. He poked the pile of dead electronics, despair crossing his features. _All his music, his files…._ He gave himself a moment to mourn. “Remember, we still have to warn Gravity Falls about the rest of the elves, and tell them how to defeat them.”

“But how?” Mabel joined him by the glass fragments and scattered keyboard buttons. “We have no communications!”

“We can go somewhere else that has a phone,” Dipper decided. “Maybe the library, or the post-office. All we need are a couple quarters.”

“And the Mystery Shack’s phone number,” added Mabel jadedly.

“And the Mystery Shac—” Dipper halted. “Wait. You don’t know their number?!”

“Of course not! There’s a reason people invented speed dial!”

Dipper ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Of course. So we have no cellphones, no computers, and no way to contact Gravity Falls whatsoever.” Desperately, he cast a glance at the pile again. “What about the home phone?”

“Killed.” Mabel pointed to a wireless receiver that had an elf-sized footprint stamped through the screen. “May it rest in pieces.”

Dipper nearly fell backwards. “Oh no,” he moaned, running a hand through his hair again. “Oh _fuuu….”_ He desperately tried to think of any other possible options. He came up with nothing. “We’re screwed,” he realized. “We’re screwed, and Christmas in Gravity Falls is ruined.”

Mabel didn’t share his lament. In fact, she had become so excited she could’ve broken into choreographed dancing. 

 _“Dipper!”_ she shouted, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. “We can’t give up! Not now!”

“We don’t have a choice.  What other options do we have?”

Mabel beamed. “I can think of one! We need to _go_ _to Gravity Falls!”_

This took Dipper several moments to process. Then he stared at her in disbelief.  “Mabel, we can’t. We don’t have the money, and we’d have to look up bus schedules and pack… not to mention Mom would _kill us—_ ”

Mabel squeezed his shoulder and stared right into his eyeballs. _“Dipper,”_ she spoke, sounding deathly serious. “Do you _want_ Gravity Falls to be terrorized by little elf-ish demons?”

“What? No!”

“And do you _want_ Gravity Falls to be terrorized by elf-demons on _Christmas?”_

“I—! Of course not. It’s just….” He struggled to find a word _._ “…It isn’t _reasonable.”_

Mabel blew a raspberry. “Irrelevant!”

“Mabel—”

“We _gotta go,_ Dipper.”

“But—”

_“We gotta!”_

She left no room for argument. Dipper sighed.

“…Give us time to pack.”

 

They didn’t have any choice but to show up at the bus station hoping there was something leaving soon that’d take them to Oregon. Fortunately—Mabel called it ‘heaven’s will’, while Dipper called it ‘dumb luck’—they only had to wait three hours for the next bus headed to Seattle, which would drop them off on the way. They’d arrive at two in the morning on Christmas Eve, a full day before the elves’ supposed attack.

The first quarter of the eight-hour ride Mabel was bouncing in her seat chanting “Christmas in Gravity Falls Christmas in Gravity Falls Christmas in Gravity—” She wouldn’t stop. Nothing was going to stop her.

Dipper wished he had brought something to block out her whining sound, but all his music had been destroyed by the elves. He’d taken along a book to read, which he’d been incapable of focusing on with the trembling amount of energy beside him. After nearly two hours though, Mabel passed out from exhaustion.

Obviously, Mabel was ecstatic to be going to Gravity Falls. It had been all she wanted, and she even tried to bargain all her presents that year for a trip up north. She had been pretty much devastated when their parents told her again and again _no._

And now they were on their way to make that dream come true.

As his sister snored on his shoulder, Dipper watched the highway flash by. _Mom is going to kill us._ They might save Gravity Falls, but Mabel and Dipper would be returning home to their funerals. His only comfort was that their trip technically _was_ for a higher purpose.

Although Dipper had left a note in the kitchen— _Mabel and I took a quick vacation up to Oregon, be back on the twenty-sixth, love you—_ he doubted it’d make their parents worry any less. The fact that they’d return to their children’s annihilated bedrooms and electronic devices didn’t increase their chances of survival.

On top of that, there was no evidence of the possibility that the twins _hadn’t_ been responsible for the mess. Dipper brought the three elves with them, locking them in his backpack with some stale crackers and his old DS. Granted, as far as Dipper was concerned, they were still passed out. He hadn’t heard them move around, and when he poked the backpack he felt the figures inside were limp.

The bus turned on the next exit, its white headlights illuminating the road when the moon had no power. A sign advertised that they were now leaving California. Dipper checked his watch.

 _Ten o’clock. Only four more hours to go._ Dipper settled back into his seat and rested his cheek on top of Mabel’s head. _Might as well get some rest._

 

The bus rolled into the city of Bend, Oregon at one forty-nine in the morning. From there, Dipper and Mabel hopped onto an empty, smaller bus that would take them to Gravity Falls.

The night was dark, and there was nothing to see out the window. Mabel had become hyper-active again, nearly buzzing in her seat with excitement.

 _Finally!_ she thought, restlessly patting her chair with the need for something to do. She couldn’t bug her twin since he was trying to sleep in the chairs behind her, but the bus’s engine spluttered every time it hit a pothole and every time they _didn’t_ hit a pothole, so his endeavor was practically impossible. Mabel already tried talking to the bus driver, but he ordered her to sit down in the back with the eyes of someone who stayed up too late to get paid so little.

So Mabel ignored them both and focused on what was _actually_ important at the moment: _Christmas in Gravity Falls!_ All she had wanted! She was going to spend _Christmas_ with her whole, complete, crazy family! She would get to see Candy and Grenda and the Stans and Pacifica and Soos and maybe pay the unicorns a visit because why not? _It’s Christmas!_ And they’d sing festive carols and drink hot chocolate by a fire and wear the sweaters Mabel gave everyone! It would be the best!

Of course, there _was_ that minor inconvenience regarding the elves. But she and Dipper had saved the town more times than she could count! It would be fine. Probably.

The twins disembarked at downtown Gravity Falls, and watched the bus rumble down the street until it was out of sight. No one was there to pick them up. In fact, no one was there to see them arrive, except for a pair of gnome lovers frolicking down the street. It was two in the morning.

Mabel shivered, and from her backpack grabbed a second sweater to wear over her first. Oregon was _much_ colder than California, especially during the winter. Although there wasn’t any snow on the ground, the wind was icy and piercing, and there was no sun to warm the day.

“So I guess we walk?” Dipper’s voice reminded Mabel why they were there.

“Sure!” Mabel hiked up her backpack. “I’ll race you!”

Dipper face-palmed. “No. For one, the Shack is like a mile away, and we have our bags with us, and— you’re already running. This is a thing that’s happening.”

As Mabel sprinted down the sidewalk of the town, a jubilant smile took over her face, and she hollered with happiness. _“WHOO!”_ she shouted, not caring who heard. _“Gravity Falls!_ It’s good to be back! _I’ve missed you!”_

And she had. She had missed the town’s peculiarities and the promise of a new adventure every day. She had missed its people and its shops; she missed the smell of musty earth and pine needles and clean air, and she missed seeing mountains and waterfalls and cute little houses you never saw in the city. She missed the lake; she missed hanging out with her friends; and she missed the absolute _freedom_ Gravity Falls made her feel.

She gave a loud _whoop_ and ran even faster.

Mabel dashed past the arcade, and the Gravity Falls Gossiper’s office, and the melted marble of what used to be Nathaniel Northwest’s statue, and the church, and—

Behind her, Dipper shouted at her to slow down. She didn’t listen.

As she approached Greasy’s Diner, she saw a couple of rabbit-bats rifling through the garbage. One had knocked a trashcan onto the sidewalk, blocking her path. Determined to not break speed, Mabel leaped over the fallen garbage can with a warrior cry, with all the agility of a gazelle with two legs. She fell flat on her face, and simply lay there as her brother caught up.

Dipper was out of breath and panting, but somehow managed to sound reproaching. “I _told_ you to… slow down.”

 _“Shut up.”_ Her voice was muffled by the pavement.

Dipper helped her to her feet, and they walked the rest of the way to the Mystery Shack.

The lights were off when they arrived. There was indeed a large, bushy tree blocking the back door, so they knocked on the Gift Shop entrance. As Mabel rapped her knuckles against the door, Dipper was struck with the worry that their great-uncles wouldn’t hear (hey, they _were_ old). He frowned and knocked louder.

A few seconds later they heard footsteps from inside the house. Mabel squealed and danced on the spot.

“Pesky raccoons,” they heard their Grunkle Stan mutter distastefully as he opened the door. He was holding a baseball bat and wearing a fierce scowl. “Get outta here, ya—!”

Immediately, he froze when he saw the kids. His jaw dropped. “Dipper? _Mabel?”_ He mouthed _what the…_

And then he was hugging them, and they were hugging back. “Grunkle Stan!” Mabel cried. “We’re so happy to see you! Guess what?” She beamed. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “We came for Christmas!”

Stan stared at her in astonishment, and then at her brother who supplied an unhelpful nod. “Kids, I….” He swallowed, and confusion took over his expression. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… what the f— _heck,_ are you doing here? How did you get here? Do your parents know? Crap, _did your parents **die?!”**_

Dipper tugged away. “No! Gravity Falls is in danger!” he said. “We came to warn you guys!”

“And by happenstance, our phones died and we couldn’t call!” Mabel provided.

“And it’s all because those _trees_ showed up!” Dipper finished.

Stan arched an eyebrow. “ _Trees_ are going to attack the town?”

“No!” Undeterred, Dipper continued. “A bunch of elfish creatures came with the trees from a neighboring dimension, and are hiding in the forest as we speak! They’re going to attack the town on Christmas Day! There are probably hundreds of them!” He slid off his backpack and shook it. Mabel snuggled into Stan’s side, still hugging him sideways. “Three of them came down to Piedmont and tormented us, but we caught them! They’re in here!”

Stan frowned at the bag like he was certain three piranhas were going to be flung out. For a long moment he stayed silent, thinking. He looked at Dipper. Then at Mabel.

“Come inside,” he decided. “You have a _lot_ of explaining to do.”

 

Fifteen minutes and two mugs of hot chocolate later, twins finished telling their story by the light of the kitchen’s low-watt lamps. On the table, still unconscious, were their three imprisoned elves. (When Stan had first seen them, he’d shivered. “Ugh! They’re uglier than my Grandma Patty’s face, which is saying something.”)

Now all he had to comment was, “…So your parents _don’t know.”_

The twins winced, and shared looks. “Technically, they know by _now,”_ Dipper offered. “I left a note.”

“That makes up for leaving without permission, right?” Mabel smiled sheepishly.

On the table, one of the elves twitched.

Stan sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m dead,” he declared. “I’m well-nigh dead, the cause of my demise Alicia and Patrick Pines.”

Mabel sounded cheerful for no reason. “If you think _you’re_ in trouble, imagine the grounding Dipper and I are going to get! We’ll be going to college in chains!”

Dipper groaned, not needing the reminder. “We can worry about our parents later,” he said. “What’s important right now is saving the town.”

Grunkle Stan glanced at a clock. “Well, we can’t do anything about Santa’s evil helpers right now. They’re all in hiding, and if their weakness actually _is_ ‘mirth’ then there’s nothing we can do. Three people can’t stop an army. That’s a lesson I learned in Colombia.”

The implications of that had Mabel shooting upright in her seat. _“Wait!”_ She slammed her hands down on the table, and something outside toppled over with a _clang._ She stared right at her great-uncle, who leaned back in slight fear. “Do my ears deceive me? Are you saying that we’re going to _recruit the entire town to spread happiness and fight back?!”_

Stan shook his head warily. “Uh, I don’t think so? That sounds really complicated and unnecessary. I was just thinking of asking your great-uncle Ford for a ‘happiness’ gun, or something. I’m sure that’s a thing.”

Mabel’s face fell immediately. It was like dropping a stone down a cliff, and then using a pick-ax to crush the remaining pieces into smithereens.  Except the rock was a child’s innocence, and the cliff was a fun slide into Hell. “Oh.” Her voice was painfully blank.

Dipper looked around as if he expected his great-uncle to jump out from behind the fridge. “Where is Ford anyway?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him since we arrived.”

“Down in the basement.” Stan jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He probably fell asleep drooling over quantum physics, or something.”

Dipper perked, remembering the recent breakthrough he’d made in their investigation. “Oh! I need to talk to him! Something about waves of hyper-reality particles travelling in wave-like frequencies—”

Stan groaned. “Save it for later, kid. First I gotta talk to my brother our problem. Fifty bucks says the guy will invent a solution before morning breaks.” He glanced at both of the twins, hoping to have some takers. “What? Nobody? Fine.” He sighed. “You two should go get some rest.”

Mabel didn’t reply. Dipper acquiesced, although he stared longingly out the doorway as if imagining his great-uncle’s lab. “Alright. C’mon, Mabel.”

They both stood.

Stan almost let them both leave, but his conscience slapped him on the back of his head. Wincing internally, he called, “Uh… hey, Dipper, you go ahead.” His voice was unusually soft. “I need to, um, talk to your sister for a bit.”

Mabel’s eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t say anything. Silently, she settled back into her seat.

Dipper remained standing, giving them a both curious and skeptical look. “Uh… okay,” he said. “Sure. I guess I’ll… be upstairs.”

He caught Mabel’s eye and gave her a reassuring nod, before turning and heading for the staircase. He grabbed his backpack on the way out, slinging it over one shoulder.

And then it was just Stan and Mabel. All that could be heard was the whine of the refrigerator and a lone cicada outside.

Mabel coughed. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

Stan didn’t reply, struggling for words. For a second Mabel thought he wasn’t going to respond at all, until he said, unexpectedly gentle, “I guess I wanted to talk about you being here. Y’know, for Christmas.”

Mabel cocked her head, and scooted forward in her chair. “Yeah?”

“And… I know how badly you’ve wanted to spend the holidays here.” She opened her mouth to deny or correct, but he didn’t stop. “You’ve never said it, I know.”

“Did Mom and Dad tell you?”

Stan smiled kindly. “Nah. I don’t need two shmucks to tell me how my favorite grand-niece is feeling. It’s just… the feeling is mutual. I spent forty years without a family; forty Christmases alone. I know what it’s like to wish that all your loved ones were with you during a special holiday.”

He heaved a sigh. “So I’m not going to take that away from you. You can stay here as long as you want, or as long as it takes for your parents to drive here and drag you back to California.” He grinned, and winked. “If we manage to save the town, we’ll throw the best Christmas party the Shack’s ever seen.”

Then he stood, and offered a hand. “Whatdya say, kid?”

Mabel regarded his hand for a moment. Then she broke into a mischievously shy grin and grabbed it, simultaneously leaping and being hauled to her feet.

“Sounds like a plan!” she cheered. “And thank you. I think I needed that? I’m in better spirits now, anyway.”

Stan chuckled.  “Good. If you’d kept being a moody teenager, I would’ve been forced to hang you upside-down by your ankles for the night.” He clapped her on the back. “Now, go get some sleep. There are still mattresses in the attic, and if you find badger in the bed sheets I give you permission to keep it as a pet.”

“Yay!” Mabel bobbed up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Grunkle Stan!”

“Good night, kiddo.”

Mabel bounced up the familiar rickety staircase, taking the steps two at a time. The moment she was safely away Stan released a heavy sigh.

Now he had to talk to Ford.

 

The twins were awoken by screams of unbridled anger. They got dressed and wandered downstairs to find Stan cowering from a phone, and Ford sitting at the table and blearily toying with a ray gun, surrounded by five empty mugs of coffee.

So, basically a normal Pines family morning.

“Great-uncle Ford!” The twins bounded over, hugging him from behind.  “It’s so good to see you!”

The old man hummed in response. “Hello, children,” he replied, smiling tiredly. “I’m glad you’re here too.” A bit of smoke puffed from his ray gun.

“Ooh! Is that a gizmo for the elf doohickey?” Mabel pointed to it, as the twins slid into the two remaining seats.

Ford glanced at it as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Yes. Though I have to say, I didn’t believe Stan’s story about ‘Santa’s helpers coming to destroy us all’ until he showed me the three creatures he had trapped in a Christmas stocking. I made this gun because I was intrigued. It’s not every day you meet a species that feeds on negative energy.” He scratched his stubble, looking at his machine as if he expected it to vanish if he turned.

They were distracted by Stan finally replying to the screaming caller. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pines,” he said when there was a lull in the shouting. He was holding the phone a meter away from his face. “Your son and daughter arrived perfectly well and safe… yes. Yeah, they’re here…. You wanna talk to them?”

The twins cried ‘NO!’ in perfect unison, and Stan winced. Ford didn’t look up from his sixth cup of caffeine.

“Okay, forget I said anything,” he amended. The screaming picked up again.

There was nothing to do but ignore it. “I guess Mom finally called,” Mabel remarked.

Dipper turned back to their most recent conversation. “Does the gun work?” He poked it, and gave a shriek when it creaked dangerously.

Ford made an _‘eh’_ gesture. “It’s a work in progress. Handling energy is much trickier than handling matter. You have to find exact frequencies, and figure out a power source. However….”

Ford waved a six-fingered hand, ending the topic. “I should be finished before the day concludes. That’s for sure.” He turned to his youngest great-nephew. “Anyway, how has your end of our investigation been, Dipper?”

His eyes lit up like someone just told him he was having an arranged marriage with a hot princess. “Oh, man! I _gotta_ tell you! There’s been a break in the case, and I think—”

Stan interrupted him by groaning loudly. “Yes, Mrs. Pines. They’ll be back soon… yes, yes I promise. Okay. Okay. I—” He frowned. “Fine. I understand. Bye.” He hung up.

He stared at the phone. “That was worse than when my ex-wife divorced me.”

Mabel chirped, “No one doubts it. Now what’s for breakfast?”

 

The Shack only closed for three occasions: the building was destroyed (a feat that happened quite often, actually), Stan was in jail, or Russia declared nuclear war on the United States.

But now Stan closed the tourist trap for an entire three days, despite it being tourist season. He grumbled about it, complaining about all the wasted potential customers, but Mabel knew where his heart was. She hugged him and thanked him, and promised to make him an extra ugly Christmas sweater. (“Oh joy,” he muttered, but the affection was there.)

Mabel hadn’t been the only one to appreciate the gesture. When Wendy and Soos showed up for work and saw that the Shack was closed, they immediately called the police and broke in, thinking Stan had died. What they saw was _much_ better than anticipated.

“Dudes!” Soos’s eyes widened like he’d seen a cupboard full of colorful cereal.

“Dipper! Mabel?” Wendy dropped the baseball bat she’d used to smash open a window. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Town emergency!” Mabel exclaimed, looking up from the TV. They were eating breakfast while watching reruns of _Charlie’s Angels: But With Pigs._ “Tomorrow Gravity Falls is going to be attacked by miniature elves that’ll destroy Christmas! But our phones had an unfortunate accident, so we came to warn everyone in person.”

“Oh.” Soos and Wendy looked unperturbed. “Should we be worried?”

“Not really.” Dipper shrugged. “Ford is working on it. It’s going to be okay.”

So the Mystery Shack employees sat down and watched bad TV shows with them. As they did, the twins explained what had happened—how the mysterious, indestructible present had shown up one day; how it turned out these elves were hiding inside; what the creatures did when they came out; how the twins managed to trap one until the elf’s friends launched a rescue and knocked them out; how they’d escaped; and their trip back to Gravity Falls.

“Your parents are going to kill you,” was all Wendy had to offer.

Dipper nodded grimly “But it’s worth it. And if anything _else_ good has come out of this, it’s that one of the elves hinted at a solution to Ford’s hyper-dimension theory.”

“And we get to spend Christmas in Gravity Falls!” Mabel cheered.

Soos stole a piece of bacon from Dipper’s plate. “So have you told your uncle what the solution is?”

Dipper shook his head. “Not yet. He’s busy working on an energy gun that’ll defeat the elves, and that’s what’s important at the moment. We’re here until the twenty-sixth anyway. I’ll tell him later.”

The episode ended, and Mabel’s belly was full. She patted her stomach twice, and then stood. “Well, it’s been fun, but I gotta go! My girls don’t know I’m here yet, which must be fixed!”

Wendy glanced up. “Oh, okay. Go ahead.”

“Have fun.”

“Tell them I say hi!”

Mabel grinned, and bounded away. She knew Candy and Grenda well enough to guess where they could be: their homes, Greasy’s Diner, or in a secluded corner of the library writing illicit Wolfboy fanfiction. And she was willing to bet on the second.

 

Half an hour after Mabel left, Ford poked his head into the living room. “Dipper? I need your help with the energy gun.” He looked exhausted.

Dipper turned to Wendy and Soos. “Sorry, guys,” he said. “Can we catch up later?”

“Sure. Don’t worry about it,” said Wendy.

Soos shook his fists excitedly. “Oh, boy! This’ll give me time to organize my Bathuman and Superperson figurines! Wait until you see them!”

Dipper nodded. “I look forward to that.”

He stood and followed his uncle to the gift shop, where the old man punched in the vending machine code. “So what do you need help with?” Dipper asked.

“I’ll tell you when we arrive.” Instead of taking him to the laboratory as Dipper expected, they travelled to Ford’s office on the second story.

It was exactly as the teen remembered it, just with more papers taped to the walls and a different equation written across a blackboard. White curtains covered the corner dedicated to Bill’s shrine. The office was as messily organized as ever, with random inventions scattered across work tables. The lights were dim, and it took their eyes a moment to adjust.

Dipper felt himself drawn to the giant equation on the blackboard. To anyone except a Harvard graduate in advanced physics (and Ford and Dipper), the numbers looked meaningless. But Dipper knew what it was: _the probability of an element of certain quanta traversing a dimension according to space-time._

Surrounding the equation were other calculations, such as how to evaluate the thickness of space-time, and how to determine the energy of matter. Genius.

Also hanging from the ceiling was a metal cage where the three elves were imprisoned. Sometime over the night they’d woken up. When they saw Ford and Dipper enter, they began hollering.

“Hey, freaks!” one called. “Why are you wasting your time? Not like you’ll achieve anything!”

“Yeah!” another yelled. “Pointless endeavors! But if you let us go now, we _might_ spare your lives! No promises though!”

Ford ignored them and led Dipper to a workbench. The prototype he’d been working on at breakfast was lying on the table. “Are you almost done?” Dipper asked.

Ford sighed. He gestured at the machine, encouraging Dipper to examine it. “I finished the design and manufacturing, but I’m stuck creating the energy source. Without knowing the exact specifications of the elves’ energy feeding, I can’t determine which opposite frequency to put in here.” He picked up a small spherical cartridge. It looked like glass, perfectly smooth and delicate.

Ford gave it to Dipper, and continued. “These elves have been most unhelpful. They won’t tell me anything! I’ve already taken a few notes on their behavior—”

“Eat a cake and die, old man!” one of them screamed.

The scientist ran a hand over his face. “You’ve been around them the longest,” he said, “and you know their manners better than I do. What can you tell me about their method of drawing energy? What does it feel like? Does it leave you emotionally drained? Have they mentioned what _sort_ of positive energy is their weakness? Be very specific.”

“Uh, okay.” Dipper pulled out a stool from underneath the table and sat down. “Regarding the ‘does it leave the victims drained’ question… no. It doesn’t feel like anything special, really.” He considered it. “Their purpose is to cause mayhem and destruction, leaving you mad and frustrated. But, like, a normal mad. Not drowsy or slow, confused anger. Does that make sense?”

“Huh.” Ford took out a second stool, and sat down himself. “That would mean elves draw away energy in tiny doses, small enough to be imperceptible. Energy cannot be created, nor destroyed. They have to steal dark energy, but if you say you didn’t notice….” He finished his thought in his head, and waved his hand. “Anyway, continue.”

Dipper thought of what else to say. “Well, when Mabel and I defeated them for the first time we had no idea what we did. Mabel had just slapped me across the face—” He stopped himself. “That’s not important. The point is, she apologized and fussed over me, and the elves disliked it. They freaked out, but they didn’t—it wasn’t—” He struggled with his words. “They didn’t act as _dramatically_ as they did when we tried it the second time.”

Ford furrowed his eyebrows. “Dramatic? What do you mean?”

“When Mabel and I knocked all three of them out, we….” Dipper struggled to explain. “We had caught on to their weakness, so we acted a lot more… intense? More flamboyant and exaggerated and….” He remembered, and gasped. “Love. We were talking to each other, expressing love.”

Something in Ford’s mind clicked. “Which means the elves are repelled by positive energy, but their _largest_ weakness is… love?” His conviction cracked.

Above them, one of the elves latched onto the bars of the cage and screeched, “LA-LA-LA! YOU CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING!”

Another hollered, “DIDN’T YOUR MAM TELL YOU IT’S RUDE TO GOSSIP ABOUT PEOPLE!”

Ford looked Dipper in the eyes. “If what you say is true, then our situation is much graver than I realized.”

Uncertain, icy fear clenched his heart. “What? Why?”

Ford pushed his stool away and stood. “For one, any large doses of ‘mirth’ could cause the elves to fall unconscious for extended periods of time, since they feed on extreme negative energy, but in small amounts. In severe cases, they could possibly undergo a coma-like state.” He strode over to a second blackboard and wiped half of it clean.

Dipper looked at the elves hanging in their cage, who glared at him. “That would explain why they were unconscious for such a long time.”

Ford nodded absently, and scrawled a couple numbers. “On the surface, that sounds like a good thing. All we need is a lot of positive energy, and they’re all out of commission. Although that’s true, it also means I have to create this energy source to be very small and exact. The energy frequencies must parallel each other.” He considered his equation, and scratched it out. He replaced it with a new one. “And love has a very distinct quanta signature. It would take lots of precision and time to accurately recreate its frequency.”

He grabbed some red chalk and scribbled LOVE above everything else. Above them, the elves groaned in disgust.

Dipper worried about their time constraint. “How long will it take?” he asked, fearing the answer.

But his worries evaporated when Ford turned with a weary smile on his face. “Longer than what we have, under normal circumstances. But you’re talking to a man with a doctorate in five different studies of physics and pure mathematics.” He nodded reassuringly. “I’ll have it done within four hours.”

Short-lived relief swept over Dipper. It was quelled by a deranged, voracious cackling coming from above their heads. It increased in volume as the elves howled more deranged-like. It sounded like a symphony of dying squirrels.

The two humans looked up.

“What’s so funny?” Ford demanded. “You’ve lost!”

The cage rattled violently with the manic elves inside. “You think… _four hours_ is _enough!?”_ Their eyes were glassy with wickedness. “Your town will be destroyed within minutes!”

Dipper clenched his fists. “Stop trying to trick us!” he yelled. “You attack tomorrow, on the twenty-fifth—you said so yourselves! You’re _lying!_ ”

“Did we? Did we _really?”_ The elf smiled cruelly, brandishing his pointy teeth. “I recall saying we would attack on _Christmas!”_

“I do too!” His friend leaped at the walls of the cage, stabbing his head between the bars. _“Christmas!_ I wonder what occasion that could refer to! Christmas _Day_ or….”

 _“…Christmas Eve.”_ Realization and horror dawned on both of the humans.

Ford’s nostrils flared. His grogginess vanished, replaced by wrath. “What have you _done?”_

“Nothing you didn’t already know was happening!” the elf taunted. “Our brethren will attack today at about….” He pretended to consider it. “Ten minutes ago!”

Dipper felt something tighten in the back of his throat. The room was shrinking. “Oh my god. _Mabel._ Mabel is out there!”

“And so is the rest of the damn town.” Ford’s jaw clenched. “Dipper, go upstairs and make sure none of those cretins get inside the house.”

“But what are you going to do?” he stuttered, limbs frozen in panic.

“I need to finish this energy gun.” Ford stamped over in a violent storm, and picked up the glassy cartridge. “It’s become imperative that we rid the world of these monsters.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “But—but they’re already loose on the town! We have to—”

Ford turned on him, eyes blazing. “We can’t do anything! Our best chance of saving everyone is in this device, and I can’t afford to have my attention split. So do as I say, Dipper!”

The thirteen-year-old gave him a look of fear and disbelief, before he turned and sprinted for the elevator.

Ford didn’t relax. He slammed his fists onto the table, knocking over tools and unsettling papers.

The elves loved it. “Yikes!” one of them sneered. “Looks like there’s trouble in—”

_“Shut up!”_

 

Mabel was frolicking through the streets of town. She was literally frolicking, skipping down the sidewalk and jubilantly waving to everyone she saw.

“Hi, Toby!” she sang as she passed. “Hi, Officer Blubs! Hi, that one guy whose name I don’t know! Hi!”

Most replied with their own cheerful wave. Everyone looked at her wondrously, as if they couldn’t believe the Pines girl was back.

The day was warmer than when she and her brother arrived, though still chilly. Mabel wore one of her thickest sweaters, one that was a dark green with an orange Christmas present in the center.

Mabel skipped into Greasy’s Diner, and scanned the heads of everybody inside. Two-thirds of the booths were filled with people enjoying breakfast. But no Candy and Grenda.

Lady Susan emerged from the kitchen holding a plate of bacon and eggs, which she immediately dropped when she saw Mabel. She gasped, and pointed. “Mabel! Is that you?”

The entire diner turned to stare. Most people broke into excited shouts and waves. Everyone knew how the Pines family had banished the demon Bill Cipher last summer. Mabel and Dipper were recognized as saviors.

Feeling a bit like a superstar, Mabel chirped, “Yep! That’s me! Autographs are twenty bucks apiece, and an additional five if you want it on your body!”

The diner laughed. No one took the offer, mostly because they knew Stan sold photocopies of Dipper’s and Mabel’s signatures for $19.99.  

Lady Susan stepped around the broken plate. “Oh, are you and your brother back for the holidays?” The whole diner was watching her expectantly.

“Something like that!” Mabel replied. She made a point of scanning the diner’s occupants a second time, before saying, “I’m looking for Candy and Grenda. Does anyone know where they are?”

Unfortunately, no one could help her. So Mabel waved goodbye and began the trek towards Candy’s house. She would try the library afterwards, if she still couldn’t find them.

She never arrived.

While turning the corner of a street, Mabel’s sweater snagged on a mailbox. She didn’t notice and kept walking, until a sharp tug kept her back. She turned, confused.

 _How did that happen?_ She unhooked her sweater, which had nearly ripped. How had she gotten stuck on a _mailbox_ of all things? It was impossible, unless she’d been running at it headfirst. (Which was actually a thing that she’d done before. For science!)

Suspiciously, Mabel glanced around. For an instant, she thought she heard the high-pitched laughing of—

And then an elf climbed out of the mailbox.

She shrieked and jumped backwards. The elf glanced around until it saw her, and then began snickering.

“What the heck!” she screamed. “What—!”

The elf blew a raspberry, and scampered away. Mabel didn’t see where it went.

She looked down the length of the street. Dozens, possibly _hundreds_ of elves were hanging from trees, smashing shop and house windows, and riding dogs like horses. There was a pair ripping Christmas lights off the roof of a home, and three others had broken into a grocery store and were stealing mountains of shaving cream. Somehow, another had managed to enter a car and was _driving it,_ while the owner chased behind screaming.

Mabel felt the horror of what she was witnessing settle in. “Oh _no.”_

The elves were attacking _right now?_ But they weren’t prepared to fight back! They were supposed to have another day!

Mabel gritted her teeth. Obviously, they were wrong about the timing, or the elves had rescheduled their siege. But it didn’t matter—the moment was now, and they needed to react. Or else the entire town was doomed.

Mabel took a moment to process what happened. Then she spun on her heel and sprinted towards the Shack.

…Or that’s what _would’ve_ happened, if her shoelaces hadn’t been tied together. Instead, Mabel tripped and fell on her face.

Grumbling, she sat up and undid the knot tying her shoes together. Somewhere in the distance an elf was laughing, like a little evil angel throwing babies into a fire.

 

Dipper ran around the Shack like a madman, locking all the doors and windows—even the entrance that was blocked by a giant, unmovable tree. He was certain a few locks wouldn’t keep out an army of elves, but it gave him peace of mind. Slightly.

Stan had taken over the television room while Dipper was away. “What’re you doing?” he asked when his great-niece stormed by holding a mop.

“The elves!” Dipper stopped by the back entrance. He snapped the mop over his knee, and used one half to create a barricade against the door. He used the other half to arm himself.

“Kid, either you’ve gone nuts or this isn’t actually you.” With reluctance, Stan stood. “Are you an alien? Some sort of clone? Because honestly, as long as you pay rent I don’t really care. It’s two hundred bucks a night.”

Dipper resisted the urge to groan. “Grunkle Stan, I’m serious! The elves have attacked early! They’re inside the town as we speak!”

That was… interesting. “How do you know?”

“The ones downstairs told me!”

“It could’ve been a trick.”

Dipper considered it. Outside, someone screamed, “Get away, you oversized goblin!” A gunshot fired.

“Somehow, I think they were telling the truth.” He pulled some duct tape out from his vest and taped a whole bunch of it over the door.

Stan watched him struggle for a moment. He decided to refrain from telling Dipper his current idea would never hold back anything with more than two kilos of muscle. “So what’s the plan?”

“The plan—” Dipper grunted, ripping another strip of duct tape. “The plan is that we stay locked in here for four hours until Great-uncle Ford finishes his energy gun.”

“That is a terrible plan.”

Dipper turned and gave him a look. He wanted to sound defiant, but his voice came out defeated. “Well, what else are we going to do?”

Stan opened his mouth to reply, but his words were interrupted by a window smashing. The sound pierced right through their argument, and both of them stiffened.

“Give me the bat,” Stan ordered, and Dipper handed it over without protest.

Stan held it with both hands, hefting it over one shoulder like he was about to hit a home run. “If there are more than three elves, _hide.”_ Dipper hesitated, and then nodded.

The two of them warily crept around the corner into the gift shop.

There, standing amongst a pile of glass, and holding a deadly grappling hook… was Mabel.

She beamed at them. “I have an idea!”

 

Stan lowered the bat with a sigh. “Kid, I could’ve smashed your head off.”

Mabel was undeterred. “But you didn’t for a reason!”

Dipper was more preoccupied with the broken glass. “You _literally_ broke in through the window _right beside_ the one Wendy already broke.”

“For dramatic effect!” Mabel stepped out of the hazardous area and dashed over to them. “But that’s not important! The elves—”

“We know,” Dipper interrupted. He pulled her into a hug. “Frank and the others told us.”

Mabel felt herself warmed by the embrace. “Has Great-uncle Ford finished the ray gun?”

“No.” Dipper pulled away, worriedly glancing at the vending machine. “He said it would take him another four hours.”

Mabel felt her face fall. “No! But—!”

A new face poked in from outside the shattered window. “Hey, dudes? You mind if Wendy and I chill in here for a bit? Crazy story.”

“Soos!” Stan helped him crawl through the window and avoid falling on the glass. “Why are you here? What happened?”

“We were walking back to town, when this little creature jumped out from nowhere and ate Soos’s hat!” Wendy appeared by the window. She deftly maneuvered around the sill and landed away from the glass. “I think you guys called them elves? Sort of reminded me of gnomes, except a lot less stupid.”

Soos brushed off his shirt. “It was an experience.”

“Yeah. We came here, since you guys said you had a solution.” She looked at them hopefully.

Dipper sighed. “Not for another few hours. We’re stuck here.”

Looking at all their dejected faces, an idea began to form in Mabel’s mind. They didn’t have to wait for the energy gun! Her mind clicking with determination, she set her plan.

“Hey!” She clambered onto the cashier desk, standing above the others. “We can’t give up now! This is exactly what the elves want! They want us miserable and depressed and without hope. We can’t let them win!”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Dipper.

Mabel beamed. “We gotta go back to my original plan! Spread holiday cheer the old fashioned way!”

“How?” Grunkle Stan sounded like he genuinely didn’t know if this was possible.

Mabel moved her focus to Stan. “You said three people can’t stop an army; you’re right. Neither can five people.” She gestured to all of them. “But the solution is simple! We’re going to do what Dipper and I did at home, but on a town-wide scale!”

The others looked amongst themselves in shock. It sounded impossible. Her determination growing, Mabel continued.

“We need to recruit the whole _town_ to spread mirth and joy! I need people giving each other presents, music, mistletoe—the works!” Mabel smacked her fist into her palm. “We’re going to make people _happy!_ We’re going to make Christmas _festive!_ And we’re going to _drive those elves away!”_

Dipper frowned. “That sounds complicated. Lots of people mean it’s definitely going to be hard to pull off.”

“Aha! But you admit it’s possible!”

He fidgeted, and admitted, “Yeah, but—”

“Sweet! So you’re with me.” Mabel turned to the other three. “Anyone else?”

“Oh, I am with you ’til the _end,_ dude,” Soos pledged. He crossed a hand over his heart. “If we go down, we’re going down together.”

“Your words are an inspiration to all of us. Thank you, Soos.” Mabel looked at the remaining two.

Wendy raised a hand. “In my opinion, this plan sounds like the plot of a really bad Christmas movie.”

“And?”

Wendy grinned. The four of them had been through thick and thin together—for _nothing_ were they running away from this final battle. “Count me in.”

Stan looked at them incredulously, before sighing. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go along with your weird… mission. You strangled me into this one, kid.”

Something devious gleamed in Mabel’s eye. “Thank you! This is going to be the best Christmas _ever!”_

 

The first step in Mabel’s plan was getting to downtown. The five of them clambered into Stan’s car, only to find four elves waiting for them.

After kicking their butts (nothing was going to deter Mabel on her quest for the Best Christmas Ever!), they continued.

“At least now we know where the elves from the tree in front of the Shack’s back entrance were hiding,” commented Soos. Stan just grumbled and stepped on the gas.

As they passed Greasy’s Diner they saw three separate fires raging around the building. What used to be the Tent of Telepathy had a gaping hole on one side. The sombrero from the local taco restaurant had been toppled to the ground.

Dipper clenched his fist. “Good riddance.”

The car swerved into an alleyway, a shortcut to downtown. Six elves were having a disco party on the bust of marble that used to be Nathaniel Northwest.

“Outta my way!” Mabel screamed, jumping out of the car. She climbed on the top and kicked one away. Wendy grabbed two others and flung them onto the street. The other three shrieked and quickly ran away.

Mabel checked if the megaphone she had grabbed from the Mystery Shack worked. Her voice would only travel the length of the street, but Gravity Falls only had two major roads anyway. She was capable of repeating a speech twice.

She took a deep breath and shouted, “LISTEN UP, EVERYBODY! MY NAME IS MABEL PINES! YOU MIGHT REMEMBER MY BROTHER AND ME FROM LAST SUMMER, WHEN WE SAVED THE TOWN FROM BILL’S WEIRDMAGGEDON. WE’RE _BACK,_ AND WE’VE GOT SOME GOOD NEWS!”

Several people cautiously poked their heads out of buildings. Even Robbie, who had apparently been taking advantage of the confusion to rob the hardware store, paused momentarily.

Mabel caught her brother’s eye, and he nodded encouragingly. She flashed him a brief smile. “AS YOU ARE PROBABLY AWARE, THE TOWN IS UNDER ATTACK! THE CREATURES ARE CALLED ELVES, AND THEIR MAIN PURPOSE IS TO DESTROY AND WREAK HAVOC!” She had the attention of most of the street now. “BUT THEY HAVE A WEAKNESS!”

A nearby elf noticed what she was doing and tried to stop her, but Stan grabbed it mid-leap and slam-dunked it on the ground. Mabel cast them a cursory glance, before forging on. “ALL ASPECTS OF NATURE HAVE ENERGY, EVEN IDEAS AND CONCEPTS. THESE ELVES FEED OFF NEGATIVE EMOTIONS, WHICH IS WHY THEY’RE CURRENTLY DESTROYING THE ENTIRE TOWN. TO GET A REACTION!” She gestured to a lady trying to stab an elf in her beehive hairdo with a straightening iron. “CASE IN POINT!”

The lady waved her straightening iron at her. “I’m coming after you next!” she threatened.

Mabel gave her a thumbs-up. “SINCE ELVES FEED OFF DARK ENERGY, THEIR WEAKNESS IS _GOOD_ ENERGY! HAPPINESS AND FESTIVITY! _LOVE!”_

People were beginning to emerge from their sanctuaries. Numerous elves on the street hissed as if they’d been burned. A small, squeaky voice somewhere to her right exclaimed, “Someone stop her!”

“BUZZ OFF, YOU POTATO!” Mabel shouted back. “THE ONLY WAY TO GET RID OF THE ELVES IS BY SPREADING CHRISTMAS CHEER!” She took a deep breath, praying the people would listen to her. More and more people were coming forth, wanting to hear what she had to say. This was her only chance.

“…BUT I CAN’T DO IT ALONE! I NEED _ALL_ YOUR HELP TO BRING HAPPINESS TO GRAVITY FALLS, AND SEND THESE CRETINS BACK WHERE THEY CAME FROM!” The megaphone crackled, so she dropped it and screamed, _“WHO’S WITH ME!!”_

People cheered wildly. A large gathering had formed by the base of the statue, nearly everyone holding weapons they dropped for the sake of Mabel’s plan. Pride for the townsfolk swelled within her.

Mabel glanced down at her family. Dipper climbed up and joined her on top of the marble. “This is your moment,” he said. “What are you waiting for? Lead them.”

She grinned, her smile a silent _thank you,_ and then faced her followers. Determination took over her, and her eyes hardened.

“PEOPLE!” she shouted. “NOW IS THE TIME FOR ACTION! I NEED CAROLERS ON THE STREETS, SINGING AND SHARING THE PLAN! STAT!” She’d hoped to talk to the entire town herself, but now she had something different planned for herself.

She turned to another mass of the crowd. “I NEED MY DECORATORS FLOODING THE PLACE!” she barked. “MISTLETOE, LAURELS, CANDLES, STREAMERS, MINATURE REINDEER— I DON’T CARE! JUST SMOTHER THE TOWN WITH IT! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE A GIANT BARFED THE COLORS RED AND GREEN ALL OVER!

“SOMEONE NEEDS TO GO TO GREASY’S AND ORDER DOZENS OF THE MOST CHRISTMAS-Y, HOLIDAY-LIKE FOOD THEY’VE GOT! FEED YOUR FAMILY! FEED YOUR DOG! FEED THE HOBOS! NOBODY CAN GO HUNGRY TODAY!

“AND WHOEVER CAN KNIT IS ON UGLY-SWEATER DUTY! YOU GUYS, INCLUDING ME, ARE GONNA BE KNITTING THE MOST FESTIVE, UGLY SWEATERS YOU’VE EVER SEEN! FOR _EVERYONE!”_

The crowd had grown since she last checked. Almost everyone in town was there. “TO EVERYBODY ELSE!” she yelled. “I NEED CELEBRATION! EVEN IF YOU DON’T CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS, I NEED ACTS OF KINDNESS! SHARING PRESENTS, SHARING TIME, KISSING UNDER MISTLETOE, EXPRESSING LOVE— FIGURE SOMETHING OUT!

“AND TO _YOU!”_ Mabel narrowed her eyes, and pointed at the Corduroy family. Manly Dan and his sons flinched. “I NEED THE BIGGEST, LEAF-IEST, MOST _JOVIAL_ CHRISTMAS TREE YOU CAN FIND, STANDING HERE BY MIDNIGHT!” She pointed at the ground. “KAPEESH!?”

Secretly, Dipper thought most of what Mabel said was impossible. I mean, knitting sweaters for _everybody_ in town? Was that even possible?

But then he saw the determination in her eyes, and decided not to doubt her.

Even the crowd watched her in stunned amazement. Mabel bent down and picked up her megaphone. “I’M NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES, PEOPLE!” she snapped. _“MOVE IT!”_

And they did.

 

Three different groups of carolers sang on the corners of streets. They didn’t have any sheet music, so they sang _Rudolph the Reindeer_ and _Deck the Halls_ from memory. Lots of people who didn’t know the original lyrics to _Jingle Bells_ ended up singing about Batman, because seriously, who knows the original lyrics to _Jingle Bells_ without _also_ knowing the Batman version. Seriously.

This prompted the groups to sing songs other than Christmas carols, which is how they ended up shouting Tom Jones, Fall Out Boy, and Halsey. One guy knew how to rap the entire periodic table, and that was cool. Some girls did interpretive dances.

Then someone brought an electric guitar, and someone else wheeled out their drum set. The three caroling groups merged into one. Then they had an awesome rave in the middle of the street. Two people probably fell in love.

No elf came within a hundred meters of them.

 

The sweater-makers met up in Soos’s house. They told stories and listened to tranquil music, and when that got boring they listened to heavy metal. Mabel gave the sweater she was wearing to an orphan, and made a new one for herself that was ornamented with functioning Christmas lights. Yes, it was a fire hazard. But yes, it was awesome!

In total, they were eighteen women and six guys. Thompson and Tambry were among them.

Some people weren’t as adept knitters as others, so they made hats and mittens instead. They finished much sooner than someone making a sweater did, and their pile grew quickly. Competitively, Mabel encouraged two people to work on one sweater at a time, to make more. It quickly turned into a competition of who could knit the most.

Then, when the sweaters were repeating the same symbols—reindeer, snowflakes, snowmen, pine trees, presents—the competition became about creativity. One girl made a pair of mittens in tribute to the movie _Jaws_. Someone else made a tuque that was both waterproof and fire-retardant. Thompson knitted a sweater with fairy wings on the back.

 

All the restaurants worked long and hard. Greasy’s Diner prepared several turkeys and holiday-themed waffles. After realizing it was hard to make waffles in the shape of snowmen, they made pancakes.

Hermanos Brothers, the local Mexican restaurant, handed out free quesadillas. The bakery made cakes with red frosting, and cupcakes with green frosting. Cookies were made in the shape of reindeers’ heads. The Pizza Guy hung around the entrance, reluctantly sharing his food with people passing by.

The bakery shipped several boxes of pastries to other assembled groups in town. The elves tried to ambush a delivery truck and would’ve succeeded if Sprott hadn’t scared them away with a shotgun. It sent several of them scurrying back into the forest.

 

At Mabel’s order, Dipper ran back to the Mystery Shack. He maneuvered around the tree and tried to get the door to open, before remembering that he had barricaded it with half a mop. So he climbed in through one of the broken windows.

When he reached the basement, Ford was not expecting him. “Dipper!” he cried, turning away from his work. The three elves in the cage made rude faces at him. “What are you doing here? Did any elves get inside the house?”

“No! Great-uncle Ford….” Dipper rested his hands on his knees and panted. He’d run all the way from downtown to the Mystery Shack. He couldn’t even run a kilometer in under ten minutes in gym class. “Mabel came up with a plan! She’s in town right now!”

“Mabel…?” Ford set down his equipment. “Is she in trouble? Do we need to rescue her?”

“What? No. No! She’s fine.” Dipper gave a breathless smile. “In fact, she’s perfect! She rallied the entire town to fight back against the elves!”

Ford’s features sunk. “But acting violently against creatures that thrive off dark energy would—”

“No! You don’t understand.” Dipper straightened. “Mabel made a _peaceful_ rally. She encouraged everyone to bond, and to celebrate Christmas _together._ The festivity will drive the elves away!”

Ford looked skeptical, but at least he wasn’t worried about their family’s safety anymore. “It’s a good idea, but we don’t know how many elves there are.” He returned to his work, using a miniature particle accelerator to smash together uranium atoms. “Her actions could help repel a few creatures, but against an army?”

Dipper was frustrated by his lack of belief, but wasn’t going to waste time arguing. “Whatever.” He pulled out a stool and sat on it. “Mabel sent me to help you.”

“Excellent. You can start by recording these particle formations.” Ford slid over some graph paper and a pencil to Dipper’s side of the desk. “Once we have the pattern, we can start copying the information into the energy gun cartridge.”

Without a word, Dipper did as he was asked.

 

The decorators acted like madmen, hanging up wreaths and laurels on every mailbox and lamppost, and placing mistletoe above every doorway. This led to numerous accidental make-outs. But they were nice.

Some guys found a bunch of tree ornaments and put them in boxes. They set them outside in town square, in anticipation of the Christmas tree.

 

Old Man McGucket read holiday stories to children in the library. Only most of them were age-appropriate. His choice of literature included: Rudolph the Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, Jack Frost, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Coraline, and Saw.  

Mothers dragged their children out as soon as they started crying.

 

Grunkle Stan had no idea what to do.

There was no way he was joining the party on the streets, and he was absolutely useless when it came to decorating if it involved running around. He’d probably drop the energy gun if he tried to help with that, and burn any food that wasn’t an egg.

So he sat with Mabel and the other sweater-makers, at a loss.

Mabel was recounting the story of when she thought there was a cat in her living room, but it turned out to be a shadow. Only two people were listening.

When Mabel came to the conclusion of her story, Stan nudged her. “Hey, uh, Mabel?”

He hated saying this, but he honestly didn’t know what else to do. He might as well get out of everyone’s way. “I think I’m gonna head back to the Shack.”

“Huh?” She took it by his tone that this was meant to be a private conversation, and scooted away from the others. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m just not cut out for the whole—” He made a vague gesture. _“Christmas_ thing.”

Mabel cocked her head. “Why would you say that?”

Stan sighed. “How do I say this nicely…? I’m not a good person. Once I sold a baby to his mother for five hundred bucks. The point of all _this_ is to spread festive cheer, and I’m basically the opposite of that. Heck, I still get heartburn saying the word”—he paused, physically struggling—“ _please.”_ He coughed. “Anyway, I think I should get out of your way. I’ll probably trip and kick all these sweaters into a fire or something.”

Mabel narrowed her eyes, like she’d been personally offended. “Grunkle Stan!” Thankfully she kept her voice low. “Don’t say that about yourself! You’re a good person! Everybody knows it.”

He raised an eyebrow. Mabel amended, “Okay, probably a lot of people _don’t_ know it. People kinda hate you in general.” But quickly she brightened. “But that’s not your fault! When it really matters, you show that you care about people. You just have a hard time seeing it!

“Why, yesterday you talked to me about the meaning of Christmas, and closed the Shack and my behalf for _three days!_ That’s, like, a record!” Mabel smiled kindly. “You _are_ caring—at least to the people you love. You simply don’t know how to be upfront about it.” She picked at the yarn she was using. “So you can start learning to show affection by helping me make this sweater! I’ll teach you!”

Stan smiled, and ruffled her hair. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, kid.”

 

The sweater-makers made a grand total of thirty-four-and-a-half sweaters in two hours. In four hours, they increased that number to sixty-one. There was no way to count the number of mittens and hats—there were simply too many. A little kid even pretended the heap was a leaf pile and jumped into it, and almost drowned.

The garments were shipped to town square, where volunteers handed them out to homeless people and orphans. Since there were only four homeless people in Gravity Falls and only thirteen orphans, the rest were put into presents and set beside the boxes of ornaments, waiting to be put under the Christmas tree.

 

The elves tried to defend themselves, obviously. A team of them underwent a stealth mission and stomped on a dozen boxes of Christmas tree ornaments. Seven others stole all the clothes in an entire neighborhood and set them on fire. Another one graffiti’d ‘SANTA ISN’T REAL’ on the side of the library. A bunch of little kids cried.

But they all had to retreat when they saw _The Christmas Tree_.

 

 _The Christmas Tree_ was so impressive simple words couldn’t do it justice. It had to be capitalized _and_ italicized. It was _that_ huge and brilliant.

The five Corduroys had done well on their promise to find the best tree in the woods. It was as tall as a nine-story building, and it had taken three trucks to carry it into town. To cut it down, Wendy ‘borrowed’ Stan’s chainsaw. It was awesome.

When the elves saw them approach they scurried away, watching from afar how the citizens of Gravity Falls mounted the Christmas tree in town square.

 

One of the trucks was destroyed in the process of setting up _The Christmas Tree_ , but Mabel just put it on Stan’s credit card.

Everyone came to watch the tree. When it was finally standing tall and proud, overlooking all of Gravity Falls, a cheer could be heard. People grabbed ornaments and lobbed them at the tree. Many ended up falling back to the ground, and none went above ten meters in height. Someone went to fetch a ladder.

 

Food was eaten. Presents were shared. Someone blasted dubstep remixes of Christmas songs on two giant speakers and started a rave.

Festive joy swept across Gravity Falls.

 

In the dancing crowd, Mabel caught sight of Candy and Grenda.

“Girls!” She sprinted over and gave them a leaping hug. “You’re here!”

“Mabel!” they cried back. Grenda was wearing a Santa hat on top of a Santa hat. Candy’s face was as red as a fire-hydrant.

“You came for Christmas! We saw you barking orders in town square, like, four hours ago!” Grenda exclaimed.

“We would have joined you, but we found our Christmas calling elsewhere.” Candy giggled shyly. Before she could explain, Grenda interjected, “We were on mistletoe duty! All the mistletoe around town is there because of us!”

Candy beamed. “I was kissed four times!”

Mabel shared her smile. “Candy, that’s awesome!”

“Oh! And before I forget!” Grenda pulled off both her hats and grabbed a small present sitting on her head. “This is for you, Mabel!”

“Grenda! Thank you!” Mabel squealed.

“It’s from the both of us,” Grenda informed.

“Hopefully you’ll like it,” Candy added.

“I am _one hundred percent_ positive that I’ll _love it!”_ Mabel gave them both an excited hug. “I’ll open it tomorrow morning, when my presents for you guys should arrive. Eee! I can’t wait to see what it is!”

At that moment, someone screamed, “Dance off!” A few yards to their left, Mayor Cutebiker and Deputy Durland were break-dancing to a mash-up-remix of _Little Drummer Boy_ and _Turn Down For What._

Grinning, the girls dashed over to watch.

 

At approximately four in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, it began snowing.

The people of Gravity Falls exclaimed, pointing and laughing. Nearly all the elves ran away, hiding back into the woods. They would eventually integrate themselves with the rest of the forest’s anomalies, breaking into gnome bars, riding Manotaurs like horses, and knocking down trees onto deer. Or maybe they’d die from starvation. 

However, a few strong-willed elves remained, desperate to keep destruction. They jumped into the dancing fray, yanking people’s hair and pulling down their pants.

Then Ford and Dipper busted into the scene Kool-Aid Man style, holding two energy guns.

“Elves, prepare to meet your doom!” Ford shouted. To his astonishment, of the hundreds of elves he expected to fight there were only a couple dozen.

“This is going to be easy,” said Dipper.

 

Ten minutes later, they were rounding up all the stunned elves and throwing them into the back of a truck to haul into the forest.

One of the elves, close to unconsciousness and fairly drowsy, slurred, “You might have won the war… but with our n-numbers, _the elves will rise again…!”_

Ford shot him in the face.

 

Later, the Pines family returned home. Tuckered out from dancing for five hours under _The Christmas Tree,_ Dipper and Mabel passed out in the car. The great-uncles carried them up to the attic.

Grunkle Stan smoothed down Mabel’s hair and pressed a kiss to her head. “Good night, sweetie.”

In her sleep, Mabel mumbled something back. It sounded like, _“Don’t trust the waffle guards….”_ Or it could’ve been, _“Love you.”_

 

~~~~~~~

 

_’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town,  
People were celebrating; all dancing around!_

_The roguish elves had come with their dastardly plot,  
but the people of Gravity Falls would not hear of such thought!_

_They drove them away with laughter and cheer,  
and on the eve of Christmas, they made the elves fear!_

_Good things were eaten, and presents were shared  
amongst those people most loved and cared._

_Twenty-fifth at the Mystery Shack, many folks went to gather  
to express their love and thanks, all together. _

_Everyone got sweaters, thanks to our sweet heroine,  
a girl who strived always to stand genuine;_

_And at the hands of her brother, who all likewise adored,  
they received DD &D, (though most found it a bore)._

_But all good things must come to an end,  
for the Pines parents soon drove up to attend._

_The twins were brought back kicking and screaming,  
hoping that this fall back to Earth was just them dreaming._

_Both were grounded from television, and received three months of chores,  
but it was worth it, since none will forget their grand Christmas lore._

 


End file.
